


Feeling Something

by Chandrian



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Season/Series 06, Sunnydale (BtVS), kitten poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chandrian/pseuds/Chandrian
Summary: It all starts with Kitten Poker and gin, but that night leads to a series of events that Buffy and Spike didn't see coming.





	1. The Night of Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where'd these demons even get kittens?

It was well past midnight in Sunnydale. At least, that’s what the clock on the wall said. This backroom was insanely stuffy and had zero windows, so as far as Buffy could tell it may have been past dawn already. Or no time could have passed. But based on the emptiness of her bottle of gin, she’d been watching Spike play poker for a good while.

Buffy hiccoughed but only Spike gave her a glance. Clem and the other gambling demons at the green-velvet table kept their eyes on their cards and the kittens that were mewling in the basket.

“Alright, I’ll raise you another,” Clem said, lifting a cute tabby kitten from somewhere below the table. From her stool, Buffy tried to lean over and see under the table and find this kitten source. She nearly fell over but her Slayer reflexes enabled her to reach out and steady herself against a nearby shelf before she went too horizontal. Again Spike glanced at her but didn’t say anything. Buffy stuck her tongue out at his silly blonde head but he’d already turned back to the game.

“Call,” said the various demons sitting a few feet from her as they also pulled kittens from below the table. 

“Ha! Read ‘em and weep, boys,” said Spike as he laid out his hand of cards. The other players groaned and Clem even threw down his own cards as Spike pulled the pile of kittens toward him and stuffed them in his own basket. 

Buffy stood up and swayed, eyes blinking furiously as she tried to make the world stand itself straight. It didn’t cooperate very well, but she walked the few steps over to Spike’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Ow!” Spike exclaimed as he tried to pull his shoulder from her grasp to no avail. “Watch it, Buffy.”

“Spike, can we go now?” Buffy asked, hearing a very displeasing whine come from her mouth. She frowned and repeated more firmly, “Can we go?” She was pleased to hear that the whine was gone.

“Uh, sure, love,” said Spike, taking a good look at her and seeing, perhaps for the first time, that she had finished an entire bottle of gin. He turned back to the table of demons and said, “Sorry, mates, but the lady wants to leave. See you next time you put on a good game.”

“Hey, you just wait a minute there, Spike,” said one of the demons, the name of which Buffy couldn’t remember at the moment. 

“Yeah! You’ve won plenty tonight, you don’t get to leave until we get a chance to win back what we put in,” said another demon. Clem didn’t seem very thrilled about his playmates challenging Spike, but he didn’t say anything to either party.

“Look, boys,” Spike said, spreading his arms in a gesture that seemed to say ‘We’re all friends here.’ “We’re all friends here. Or at least not outright enemies, at any rate. I’ve got to head out tonight but next time I’m sure you’ll wipe me out.” With that, Spike stood up and the demon with spikes coming out of his head reached for the blonde vampire.

Buffy was doing her best not to sway on her feet, but she was trying really hard and still felt as though she might fall over. This did not stop her from leaping forward and punching the demon who tried to grab Spike’s arm. The spiky demon went flying into the wall ten feet behind the table. Clem was still sitting, holding his hands up as though he were in an old-time western, while the other demon was standing and attempting to look brave. Buffy could take him, so she took a step forward.

“Easy there, killer,” said Spike as he grabbed her arm and held her back. “They just want a chance to get what’s theirs, that’s all. Let ‘em go.”

Buffy met his eyes and saw that they were wide and serious. He was trying to stop her from doing something reckless, which felt extremely bizarre given the type of person she knew he was. 

“Fine. They keep their heads,” she said, slurring her words as she pulled her arm from his grasp and straightened her jacket. “But let’s get out of here, I’m tired of being around these bizarros.”

“Nice to see you again, Buffy!” said Clem, waving a saggy arm in her direction as Spike picked up his basket of kitten-winnings and led Buffy toward the back door. 

“Bye, Clem!” Buffy said as the door closed behind Spike. She straightened her jacket again and said, “Your friends are really cool, I like Clem.” She hiccoughed once more. “And I think I like gin. I can’t tell.”

“Rrright,” said Spike, smiling slightly but also looking vaguely exasperated. “C’mon, let’s get back to the crypt and we’ll get you settled.”

“But it’s laaate, I should go home. I should make sure Dawn’s safe.” Buffy wasn’t entirely sure what Dawn’s plans had been for the evening. She might have been hanging out with a friend, but either way Buffy wanted to make sure her little sister was safe. 

“Alright, we’ll go to your house then,” Spike said soothingly, basket under one arm, the other linking with Buffy’s. “But you’ve got to walk either way, so get them legs moving.” 

“I’m not a child, Spike, you don’t have to hold my hand when I walk across the street,” Buffy replied, wrenching her arm away from his and once again straightening her jacket.

“Okay, your jacket looks fine, you can stop trying to put it to rights.” Spike patted a hand on her shoulder and shifted the basket under his arm as they started moving toward Revello Drive. “Was that your first time drinking?”

“Pft, no!” Buffy said, spitting more than she’d intended at her noise of disbelief. “I mean, I’ve had a little to drink before. Champagne at New Year’s and stuff like that.” Spike gave her a look that clearly indicated his doubt in this statement. “Okay, so maaaybe I’ve never had an entire bottle of alcohol in one go. Or more than a single glass. But why does that even matter, I’m totally fine, I could kill a hundred vamps right now. Where are they?” She raised her fists and looked around, eager to prove to Spike that she could take care of herself. 

“Of course you can, love, I’m not doubting that,” said Spike easily, his long leather coat flapping against his calves.

“You have really nice legs, Spike,” Buffy said abruptly. It was imperative that she tell him that she admired his legs right now. 

“That’s… nice of you to say, Buffy,” Spike said. He almost looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I’m serious. Your legs are really nice.” Did he not believe her? “I don’t care what anyone else has told you, your legs are great, like, really fit.”

“Well, I do have to walk all around town whenever I get out, so that makes sense,” Spike replied. 

Buffy nodded, and her vision seemed to go in and out as she did so. “Spike?” she said, suddenly unsure.

“Yeah?” he said, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket. 

“I think I might be drunk,” Buffy whispered.

Spike chuckled. He never seemed to laugh. Even when she was in his crypt and they were watching really bad daytime tv, he didn’t laugh uproariously at anything. He chuckled or snickered to himself, but there never seemed to be genuine from-the-stomach laughter.

“You know, Buffy, you might be right,” he said, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He had wonderfully intense eyes. Kind of like Angel. All that knowledge behind them because he’d been alive for so long but at the same time there were still things that surprised him. Like her. She seemed to do a lot that surprised him. 

Buffy smiled widely, causing Spike to cock his head and gaze at her questioningly. “What is it?” he asked.

“I surprise you!” she said, still grinning broadly at the pale man who walked beside her. 

“Heh, you certainly do, Slayer,” he said, head tilting to the other side this time. 

It took them about twenty minutes to walk to her house. Sunnydale wasn’t a big town, but Buffy neither felt like walking quickly nor was able to move in a very straight line. Spike frequently had to correct her course and make sure she stayed on the right street. Eventually they made it back to her house and they stopped. Buffy and Spike stared at 1630 Revello Drive for a few minutes. Buffy didn’t really feel like going inside. The night was beautiful. She hadn’t been paying very close attention while they walked, she’d been busy listening to the kitten noises coming from Spike’s picnic basket. The moon was bright in a sky with no clouds and it was cool, like most Californian nights.

After a few minutes, Spike spoke. “Well, you should get in there, Slayer. Gotta make sure the lil bit is safe and snug, right?” 

Buffy looked at him. She’d been spending a lot of time with Spike lately. After she’d clawed her way out of her own grave and confessed to him that she’d been happier dead, it seemed impossible to be around her friends. They didn’t understand the pain and confusion she felt. But without saying anything, Spike seemed to know what she was going through and offered her what she needed: comfort and quiet. If she mentioned unhappiness to Giles or Willow or Dawn, they’d try to solve the problem and make her feel instantly better. Willow seemed to think that Buffy should just be happy, as though dying had never happened. But being alive again was so much more than that. She remembered being dead, she remembered coming back to life and being surrounded by feelings and people and sensations all over again and it was just so much that sometimes Buffy didn’t know how to handle it, let alone keep on living. 

But Spike seemed to know. He’d been dead once after all and that made it easier to be around him. He knew what it was like to be on the other side, to be something that wasn’t subject to the rules and constraints of reality. It was good, being with him. Spike made Buffy feel peaceful. 

“Will you come up with me?” Buffy blurted out suddenly. Spike just looked at her, head cocked once again (she really liked when he did that). “I just… I don’t really want to be alone and, well, Dawn and Willow don’t really get it. Would you mind?”

Spike looked at her. For once, Buffy held his gaze. Normally (when she hadn’t drunk an entire bottle of alcohol) she couldn’t bear to look into someone’s eyes for very long. It made her nervous and guilty for reasons she didn’t really understand. But now, either because the liquor made her immune to the normal feelings she felt when looking at Spike or because she just knew that she didn’t want to be alone, she looked into those dark blue eyes and didn’t look away.

“Sure, Slayer, if that’s what you want,” Spike said softly, a slight smile on his face.

Buffy led the way inside her home. The alcohol she’d consumed was doing weird things to her. When she stepped in the door, she paused and looked into the living room. For a moment she saw her mother on the couch again, eyes open, hands adrift at her sides. Buffy shook her head. She couldn’t think about that. 

She headed up the stairs, Spike following behind her, box of kittens still under his arm. She could hear them mewling pathetically within, practically begging to be let out. 

She turned suddenly on the stairs, coming face to face with Spike since he was on a step below her. 

She’d never been this close to his face before. He was pale, a fact she’d always known but tonight it seemed almost blinding. Up close she could see that his roots were starting to show, and she could see that his curly hair was actually a dark brown. 

“Why do you dye your hair?” she asked, momentarily forgetting why she’d turned around.

Once again, Spike cocked his head. Maybe he didn’t realize he did this so much, or maybe he knew that it did something to Buffy that she didn’t understand so he did it on purpose when she looked at him.

“Not sure, really,” he said, only looking vaguely confused by her abrupt question. “It took a few decades before dyeing your hair was really possible. I saw someone in New York with this kind of hair, liked it, asked ‘em how they did it, killed ‘em, and then did it for myself.”

It was Buffy’s turn to cock her head. “You killed someone for a hairstyle?” she said, unable to suppress a snort as she did so. 

Spike exhaled and leaned back slightly from Buffy’s face. “Well, I killed them because I was hungry, but yeah. Basically.”

There was a pause and then Buffy snorted again and started laughing. “You’re like a teenage girl!” she said breathlessly as laughter made her double over. 

“Very kind,” Spike said sarcastically, but still he seemed entertained at the sight of Buffy’s laughter. “Come on, to bed, remember?” 

Still snorting, Buffy turned and headed back up the stairs, having forgotten why she’d turned to him in the first place.

They passed Dawn’s bedroom and Buffy paused. She pressed her ear against the door and listened closely, trying to ignore the sounds of desperate kittens coming from Spike. She heard nothing so she cracked the door and peered in. She did this very slowly, as she was reluctant to wake Dawn and reveal that Spike was with her. And that she was drunk. 

Looking into Dawn’s room, Buffy could see the lump in the bed that indicated that Dawn was fast asleep. Buffy grinned, happy to know that her sister was safe, and closed the door gently. 

“She’s sleeping,” she whispered to Spike, who rolled his eyes and mouthed, “I know.”

Buffy stuck out her tongue and continued on to her bedroom. She was in her old bedroom, Willow and Tara having taken her mother’s after Buffy’s death. This bothered Buffy a little, but at the same time Willow had jumped in after Buffy died to take care of Dawn, so Buffy only slightly held it against the couple.

Buffy’s room hadn’t changed much during her stint in heaven. Her bedclothes were still frilly and white. Mr. Gordo still laid against her pillow. All in all, it was the room Buffy had spent nearly five years in and it meant home to her. 

Seeing her soft bed inviting her in, Buffy flung herself into it, curling up into a comfortable ball and making happy noises that sounded like a cross between sighing and moaning. 

“Well,” Spike said. Buffy pulled her head up to look at him. He looked very awkward to be in her room and didn’t seem to know what to do. “You’re home safe, as is the niblet, so I’ll see you around, Slayer.” With that, he turned to go.

“Wait!” said Buffy, sitting up and immediately regretting having done this so quickly. She cleared her throat, eyes clenched shut. “Stay with me.” 

Eyes still closed, Buffy only heard Spike take a sudden deep breath. She still heard the kittens make sad noises every few seconds.

“And let the kittens out of the basket,” she said, eyelids coming slightly apart as she lay back down. Spike looked wary, as though he wasn’t sure she was serious. Maybe he thought she was going to stake him. But she hadn’t wanted to do that since before Glory. Lately all she’d wanted was for him to be around.

“You sure?” he asked hesitantly, eyes uncertain as he looked at Buffy lying on the bed.

Buffy only held a hand out to him. All the answer he needed, Spike closed Buffy’s door and set the basket of kittens on the floor, opening the lid. A sudden outpour of cats made Buffy giggle, which caused Spike to smile. There were ten kittens tentatively stepping around Buffy’s room, sniffing her desk, her bed, her pile of dirty clothes. 

“Please come here, Spike,” Buffy said softly, still holding out a hand to him from her comfortable place in bed. 

Spike hesitated just a moment before gently crawling onto the white coverlet beside her. He hadn’t taken off his boots or his leather coat, but Buffy hadn’t done so either. She made soft noises as she settled into her bed, occasionally feeling Spike’s leg or arm behind her. 

“Thank you for tonight, Spike,” she said quietly. “It was nice to feel something again.”

Buffy knew that vampires didn’t need to breathe but she seemed to notice the lack of breathing more acutely than she ever had before. 

“Sure thing, Slayer,” came the soft British accent from close behind her ear. “Happy to help.”

“Call me Buffy, Spike,” she said, trying to burrow into her blankets and arms. Her wriggling brought her against Spike’s body. It was cold and hard, his muscles clearly evident beneath his soft white t-shirt. “When you call me ‘Slayer’ I just think about the girls you killed.”

“Sorry,” he replied softly from behind her. “Sure thing… Buffy.”

The sound of her name seemed elegant coming off his English tongue. She smiled, aware that Spike couldn’t see this, and snuggled down further into the comfort of her bed. 

“Good night, Spike,” she sighed.

“Good night, Buffy,” he replied. She felt a gentle hand settle onto her arm. Slowly, she raised her hand to settle on top of his. 

Connected in this way, Buffy drifted off to sleep, content and for once unafraid of the nightmares of death she knew waited for her beyond the doors of night.


	2. The Night After Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy wakes up with a hangover, and Spike is still with her. What will they do until the sun goes down?
> 
> Spoiler: They're going to read. I can't write blue.

_ Pain _ .  _ Oh god it hurts. _

Buffy’s head was pounding ferociously against her pillow, a normally soft object that felt like a rock at the moment. Her mouth was as dry as dirt and she couldn’t tell if she was hungry or about to throw up. She groaned and tried to bury her head in her arms, of which there were three.

_ Since when do I have three arms?  _ she thought groggily. 

She felt her third arm, trying to get to know it if she was going to have it from now on. It seemed colder than her other arms and bigger.

“Checking for a pulse, Buffy?” said a soft British voice at her ear.

She started, head jerking back and colliding with something hard. This introduced a fresh jolt of pain to her forehead even as the head behind hers said “Gah!”

Buffy’s eyes were caked shut but she managed to crack them open. She was in her own room which was lit softly with sunshine from her closed blinds. The unusual part of this morning (aside from an intense hangover which she’d never experienced before) was that there was a body behind hers. Realizing this, she also realized that what she’d thought was her new third arm was actually someone else’s twined beneath her head. There were also two legs (not her own) twisted with hers and another arm resting around her waist. 

She craned her head around slowly, the movement doing unusual things to her brain, and came face to face with a gently smiling Spike, whose nose looked slightly redder than usual.

“G’morning, Buffy,” he said quietly, a puff of breath crossing her face. It didn’t smell like morning breath, which (her brain slowly realized) was probably because vampires couldn’t host bacteria.

“Hi,” she croaked, dry tongue rasping against her teeth. “I feel terrible.”

“Do you want me to--” Spike began, starting to pull his arm from under her neck.

“No!” she said a little loudly, causing her head to throb. “Ugh, I mean no,” she said more softly. “You’re fine, I just need--”

And she reached to her bedside table where she kept a bottle of water. She struggled into a half-sitting position, body wriggling against Spike in the process. She downed her entire bottle of water at once, savoring the way the liquid coated her tongue and inner cheeks. 

“Oh god, that’s so much better,” she gasped, collapsing back down beside Spike. His arm was no longer over her waist and their legs had become untangled. Although his body was colder than her own, the places where he’d been touching her now felt colder without his presence. She shivered a little and said, “Now I’m cold.”

“Oh, right.” Spike shifted against her now and she felt his body along the length of her more so than when they’d just been pressed together. He was basically pure muscle and bones, not what you’d expect to be good cuddling material but he felt...right. He was just tall enough for his head to rest above hers, his long torso spread against her back and head. 

Spike pulled at the blanket at the foot of her bed and brought it up over the both of them, tucking it around Buffy until she was cocooned from the outside air. He then (very carefully, as though expecting her to stop him) put his arm over her waist once more. 

“Mmm,” sighed Buffy, scrunching down into the blanket for warmth. This also pressed her up against Spike again, something she was very comfortable with at the moment. “Thanks, Spike.”

Something soft wriggled against her foot.

“What is that?” she said suddenly, head almost jerking back once more before she remembered that Spike was right behind her. She felt his foot (no longer booted as it was last night) brush against her own. There was a muffled “miaow” from down there.

“Oh, that’ll be a kitten,” Spike remarked casually, leaving his foot resting against hers. “They’re a bit all over the place at the moment. Hope you’re not allergic.”

Buffy raised her head enough to peek over the edge of the blanket and looked around. There were indeed several kittens scattered around her room. There were two curled up together near Buffy’s shoes, which she didn’t remember taking off so Spike must have done it for her at some point. There were a few more nestled deeply in the folds of Spike’s leather coat. She seemed to remember that there had been ten last night, so the rest of them were probably on the other side of her bed. 

“I always wanted a kitten,” she mumbled, putting her head down against her pillow. Since the water, her head felt somewhat better, though still a bit poundy. 

They laid there for some time, Buffy breathing slowly in an attempt to calm down her smashing headache. Spike just held her, as he’d done the entire night, or so Buffy assumed. She had no idea what time it was, but she felt fully inclined to remain in bed with Spike like this all day. She was content, in a way she hadn’t been for many weeks now. The weight of him around her was calming, a reminder that she wasn’t alone. She sometimes felt this sort of contentment with Dawn, if they were watching tv together and Dawn snuggled next to her. But perhaps it was the knowledge that Spike had been caring for her as she’d struggled the last few weeks that made her appreciate this closeness more than being close to her friends and Dawn. 

She must have dozed off because the sudden knock at her door made her jump when it came. 

“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice called through her bedroom door. “You awake yet? It’s almost lunchtime. Tara’s going to make sandwiches and we thought you’d want one.”

“You should eat something, Slayer,” whispered Spike at her ear, his breath puffing her hair forward into her eyes. 

Buffy cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah, Dawn, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Even through the door Buffy could hear the worry in Dawn’s voice. Normally her friends’ constant worrying annoyed her, but with Spike still curled around her she didn’t get exasperated like usual.

“I’m fine, Dawn. Just tired from patrol, that’s all. Will you bring me the sandwich? I kind of want to stay in bed.”

“Bring two, I’m hungry too, pet,” Spike murmured. She could get used to his quiet voice at her side.

“Uh, Dawn? Two, please. I’m really hungry this morning. Afternoon? Whatever.”

There was a pause. Buffy did not normally eat one whole sandwich, let alone two. Depression sucked.

“Sure, Buffy,” said Dawn, confusion now blending with worry, and Buffy heard her footsteps move down the hall. 

“Sorry about that, but seeing as the sun’s up you’re kinda stuck with me,” Spike said cautiously. Hopefully? “Unless you want to lend me a blanket. Can’t promise to give it back unburnt, though.”

“No,” Buffy said quickly. “You can stay. I-I don’t mind.”

And she didn’t. The prospect of being with someone, especially this close to someone, for the rest of day generally caused rioting anxiety to boil through her. But the idea of Spike staying with her today made her feel good. The promise of this sense of contentment continuing was too much to pass up. 

“All right then,” came his reply, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “What’d you plan on us doing till sunset?”

“Oh.” Right. They could do something. Normally they’d watch soap operas on Spike’s tv, but Buffy didn’t have a tv here in her room (and she certainly couldn’t afford to get one now). She looked around her room for something to do and her eyes landed on the small bookshelf that held most of the books she’d read for school. She smiled to herself. “You could read to me.”

She felt Spike pull his head away from her, and turning around she saw surprise on his face. “You want me to read to you?”

She gave a shrug and watched his shoulder rise as she lifted his arm with her body. “Why not? You’re William the Bloody after all. Didn’t you used to write poetry?”

If he could have, Buffy would’ve sworn that Spike would be blushing right now. 

“I am  _ not  _ reading you my poetry,” he said defensively. “So you can get that idea  _ right _ out of your noggin.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and was pleased that this didn’t hurt her head. “You don’t have to read your own poetry, idiot. I’m sure I’ve got something on that bookshelf that you could read. Or do you not do that anymore now that you’re a Big Bad Vampire?” She said this last in a mock baby voice, causing Spike to narrow his eyes. 

“Right then,” he said, flinging the blanket off him and getting up. Buffy felt cold again without his body against her back and she suppressed a disappointed whimper. Spike seemed to sense her reaction anyway and grinned cheekily at her. “Let’s see what Brainy Buffy’s got.” 

Buffy watched from her bed as he stalked gracefully to her tiny bookshelf and crouched down to peruse her selection. She could see his spine raised against the soft cotton of his t-shirt and had a sudden desire to run a finger down these ridges.

_ knock knock _

Buffy started again (she was jumpy this morning) and Spike quickly slid down beneath her bed. There were a few protesting mewling noises--apparently some of the kittens had been enjoying the darkness down there. 

Her door opened and Dawn came in, carrying two sandwiches on a plate and a glass of juice. 

“Lunch!” she said enthusiastically but confusion quickly took over her face as she saw all the kittens. Buffy suddenly realized that Spike’s jacket and boots were still on her floor and she cursed silently. Maybe Dawn wouldn’t notice?

But as her sister took in the now scampering kittens, her gaze fell on the heap of leather. Confusion abounded. 

“Why are there kittens and why is Spike’s jacket in here?” She came over and set the lunch on Buffy’s side table, before sitting down next to her, still looking around confused. 

“Oh, well, I uh broke up a game of kitten poker last night.” Yes, that was true. “Spike was there--” also true “--and I decided to save the kittens.” Kinda true.

“But why do you have Spike’s jacket? Also: kitten poker?” 

This could all derail very quickly. Buffy thought fast.

“Well,” she began slowly, trying to come up with a plausible reason why she would have Spike’s closely treasured leather coat. “I wanted to punish Spike for being soooo cavalier with the lives of innocent kittens--” what? “--so I made him give me his jacket. As punishment. For threatening kittens.”

This made exactly zero sense. 

“Huh.” Dawn seemed to think this over. There was no way she would believe this. “I could see that.” 

Buffy barely overcame her amazement and nodded, saying, “Yeah, right?”

“I mean, Spike’s totally in love you, he’d probably do anything you told him to, especially since now he’s given you his jacket. That’s like totally high school love.” Dawn seemed to be gushing over this perceived admission of love. Buffy remembered that Dawn had always liked Spike. Apparently that meant she’d believe a lie this bad. 

She also felt more than a little awkward as Dawn said this, knowing that Spike was listening just a foot below them. Best to get Dawn out of here.

“Anyway, thanks for bringing up my lunch, Dawnie.” She gave Dawn a quick hug. “I’m just gonna eat and then take a nap.”

“Oh, okay,” replied Dawn, realizing she was being asked to leave and seeming to feel a little sad about it. “Well, I’m just going to be downstairs, doing homework. So if you need anything, just--you know, let me know.”

“I will, Dawnie.” Buffy smiled and for once didn’t feel like she was forcing it. Dawn smiled back and left the room, closing the door behind her. 

Buffy waited a few moments until she could no longer hear Dawn’s footsteps and then sighed. 

“Alright, Spike, you can come out.”

Spike crawled out from under her bed and sat up, smirking at her. 

“What?” Buffy asked, defensive of her terrible lie. 

Spike took on a lofty expression and shook his head. “Nothing, pet. Give us a sandwich.”

Buffy handed over one of the sandwiches to Spike, who scarfed it down while looking through her books again. Buffy nibbled at her own at first, until she realized she actually was quite hungry. She devoured her sandwich and then drained the juice. Her stomach felt a little better now that there was food in it.

“Ah, here we go,” Spike said through a mouthful of bread and cheese. He held up a tattered book. “ _ Macbeth _ . A classic.”

“Ugh, Shakespeare,” Buffy groaned. “Of course you’d pick Shakespeare.”

“Hey the Bard had a knack for the creepy, something I can appreciate as a creature of the night.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes as Spike rose, finishing off his sandwich. He climbed back into bed with her, sending a few kittens mewling for cover. Most were now gathered on Spike’s coat, which they seemed to have claimed. The one from the foot of her bed seemed the most courageous. She (or he, but Buffy decided it was a she) had made the climb up the bed and up Buffy’s legs and was now resting on the pillow next to her head. It gave a huge yawn, tucked its nose under its tail, and went to sleep. 

Buffy carefully turned over so as not to disturb the kitten and there was Spike, propped against her headboard with his legs stretched out before him. He smiled at her and held out his arm, inviting her to tuck in under it. Without even hesitating, Buffy entered the nook he’d made for her and curled against him, relishing the contact. It felt so good to be snuggled up to someone, and though once Buffy had gagged at the thought of kissing Spike let alone cuddling with him, she found that she was glad that it was him. 

“Alright,” he said softly, folding his arm around her shoulders so he could hold the book with both hands. “So they’re in Scotland, right? And it opens up on a battlefield with three witches, though not as nice as your two resident ladies. So,” Spike gave a cough to clear his throat and began to read aloud.

_ When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? _

_ When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battles lost and won. _

_ That shall be ere the set of sun… _

And on he read. Buffy closed her eyes and listened as Spike read scene after scene of the play. His rough English accent occasionally slipped into something a bit more Scottish, and as he went on his accent even lost some of its Cockney and became more gentle and refined, a bit like Giles’ voice. Buffy could almost picture a human Spike, William, reading Shakespeare and relishing the poetry. She was relaxed, lulled into a peaceful state by his reading. She got up once, to use the bathroom, but spent the rest of the time snuggled into his side. The occasional kitten got up and sniffed around her room, and her little friend on the pillow mewed in her sleep a few times. It was the most surreal moment she’d experienced since waking up in a coffin, but where that had been horrific, this was...wonderful.

As he read, the sunlight filtering into her room gradually darkened. By the time he finished the play, it was almost sunset.

_...and what needful else, that calls upon us, by the grace of Grace, we will perform in measure, time and place. So thanks to all at once and to each one, whom we invite to see us crown’d at Scone. _

The book closed softly and he dropped it to the floor, putting his now free arm around her to clasp his other hand. 

“Well?” he asked, speaking softly as he had done nearly all day. “What’d you think?”

“I think I could learn to like Shakespeare if you kept reading it to me,” she replied, snuggling further into his side, which wasn’t really possible, but wriggling around next to him made it seem as though she was getting closer.

“Yeah the Bard’s not all bad. Some of his poetry is passing fair.”

Buffy scoffed. “Oh yeah, is your poetry superior to that of the world-renowned literary genius?”

Spike pinched her arm but didn’t respond. He just held her close and looked at the windows.

“Sun’s almost down,” he observed. “It’ll be getting time for me to go.”

Silence. Buffy knew he would have to leave. He couldn’t stay here forever. They may be friends (well, more than friends if her feelings today told her anything that she listened to) but he was still a vampire. A blood-drinking, undead, soulless vampire. And as much as she’d enjoyed this day, Dawn still needed her to be Buffy.

“Right,” said Buffy, nodding. She reluctantly pushed herself up and away from Spike, which made her feel cold again. “Well, I might see you on patrol tonight. If you’re not--you know, busy.”

Spike shifted in her bed. “Yeah, you could come round. I’m gonna have to step out for some of the red but I’m always up for giving you a hand with the slaying, Slayer.”

This was starting to feel awkward. The contentment Buffy had felt all day was fleeing before her anxiety. Spike had to go because that’s just how things were. They weren’t together ( _ but cuddles! _ thought her brain) and Buffy had responsibilities. 

“Right,” he said, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed and standing. “Budge up, kittens.” He nudged the cats sleeping on his coat with his toes, eliciting protesting meows that also sounded rather hungry. Spike pulled on his boots and then swung on his long leather coat.

Finally he looked at her. He was looking a little peaked around the eyes, which Buffy realized was from lack of blood. He’d spent the whole day with her because she’d asked and hadn’t mentioned that he was probably starving. 

“I’d better get these kittens some food,” Buffy said, standing up. She got a slight headrush, but it passed as she straightened herself out. 

Spike still looked at her. He took in her face, her hair, her wrinkled clothes. At last he smiled and took a step forward. He slowly reached out a hand and took one of hers gently.

“Buffy, I--” he stopped, looking away briefly. He took a deep breath and then met her eyes. “Thanks. For today. It meant a lot.” Still moving slowly, he raised his other hand and stroked her cheek. Buffy kept her eyes on his, feeling a warm contentment spread through her once more. “Be glad to do it again sometime.” He smiled so widely at her that she couldn’t help but smile back. She had a fleeting desire to lean forward and kiss him, but something held her back.

So she just smiled. He let go of her hand and went to the windows, opening one. He looked back, kittens still mewling around him. 

“See you later, love.” Another grin and he slipped out her window and into the darkening evening. 

Sighing, Buffy went to her closet to change clothes. She’d been wearing the same outfit since yesterday afternoon and she was definitely starting to stink. She changed quickly, as the meowing kittens were starting to bug her.

“Alright little guys and girls, let’s find you some milk. Or something.” She began trying to round them up, not wanting to leave any of them in her room. As she attempted to snag one before it went under her bed, she saw  _ Macbeth _ lying on the floor where Spike had dropped it. 

Buffy picked up the worn copy of the play and stared at the cover. It showed a man and a woman, presumably Lord and Lady Macbeth, against a black backdrop. The woman was standing beside the man with a dagger in her bloody hands, while the man looked at her helplessly. Buffy stroked the cover and quietly put it beneath her pillow, where it would keep her company when she went to sleep that night and perhaps other nights in the future.


	3. Post-Kitten Spike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of the two Kitten chapters, Spike heads home but is accosted by a disgruntled kitten loser. It appears that someone is after Buffy. Again.

After leaving Buffy’s room, Spike made his way back to his crypt. He was starving for blood, and being in the same room as the Slayer for so long had been torture. She smelled almost too good, with that thick Slayer blood coursing through her veins. Though blood wasn’t the only thing about her that smelled good to Spike…

His thoughts drifted to the night and day he’d just spent with her. Drunk as she’d been, during the night she’d been all over him. Legs thrown over him, face pressed into his chest or neck. She’d made a few soft noises as she’d slept, little grunts that Spike took to mean she was comfortable, though it was hard to tell. With Drusilla, it hadn’t really been safe to sleep together at the same time. Dru thrashed in her sleep because of the visions. She used to say the weirdest shit when unconscious, sometimes weirder than what she said while awake. But with Buffy, the night had been quiet. She slept quietly and other than being wrapped around him had seemed entirely unaware of his presence. 

It had been the best night of Spike’s life. Holding her, surrounded by her scent, hearing and feeling her heartbeat when her neck was pressed to his arm. He had revelled in the closeness of her, and when she’d invited him to stay with her for the day he’d been hard pressed not to grin like a maniac. 

Buffy knew how he felt. He wasn’t shy about loving her, but after what she’d been through he didn’t want to press her. He’d lose her that way, and now that he was so close to having her (not that anyone could really  _ have  _ a Slayer) he didn’t want to risk his chance. So he stayed with her when she wanted, or left her alone when she asked. Whatever she wanted from him he was willing to give.

“Spike!” 

The shout came from behind him and it was followed by a rushing sound. Spike dodged left, out of the way of the spiky fist that had been coming toward his head. 

Spike struck out with a fist of his own and his hand collided with a face that felt as spiky as the hand looked. 

“Darin?” Spike had been clumsily attacked by the spike demon he’d played poker with the night before. The one he’d won so many kittens off of. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

Darin was clutching his face with one hand, glaring wildly at Spike. “You asshole! The only reason you didn’t die the other night was because you had the Slayer with you! You’re gonna pay for leaving me broke!”

With that he leapt at Spike once more, hands flying almost comically toward the other’s face. Spike batted these aside easily and punched Darin in the face again.

“The reason I didn’t die last night is because you’re too weak to take me on. You don’t even have the balls to come at me straight on,” Spike said condescendingly. “Don’t pretend it was just the Slayer that kept you from coming at me that night.”

Darin’s breathing was strained. It seemed that Spike’s jabs had broken his nose and thick green blood was trickling off his face onto the ground. 

“Whatever, Sbike,” said Darin, clutching his face again. “Sood the Slayer won’t be a probblum, so you’d bedder watch it.”

Spike’s senses flared and he felt his face distend and his fangs enlarge. He darted forward and seized Darin by his throat, causing the demon to sputter and choke. 

“What’d you say, you little cocksucker?” hissed Spike through bared teeth. He fought to keep his mind clear of panic because right now all he could think was  _ Buffy’s in danger _ .

Darin flinched, his red face close to Spike’s. “Ii-d’s just sombthing I heard, ad Willy’s Blace. Dere was a guy dere, a debon. Said he was going do kill da Slayer.”

Spike stared into Darin’s eyes. They were white and terrified, but he didn’t seem to be bullshitting him. 

He flung Darin away from him, watching in disgust and rage as the demon crashed to the ground and groaned. 

“If I ever see you around again, I’m takin’ your head off,” Spike threatened, walking over to Darin and kicking him in the chest. “Now sod off.”

He watched as Darin crawled a few feet and then stood up, staggering away while casting terrified looks back at Spike. 

Someone was itching for the Slayer. A few years ago, it would’ve been Spike or he’d’ve been cheering the bloke on. But things were different now and all he could think of was finding this bugger and ripping him apart. 

Forgetting that he was still blood-starved, Spike made for Willy’s Place, the local shithole where shitty demons drank shittier booze.

Enraged as he was, it didn’t take him long to get to the seedy bar. He paused outside, wondering for a moment if storming in and tearing the place apart was the best tactic, but his hunger and rage drove him on.

He kicked open the door and stalked in, face still raised in his vampiric form. The place was dim and smoky, and there were a handful of demons spread out across the tables. A few lesser demons tried to sidle toward the back door, but Spike saw and yelled, “Don’t you fucking move!”

The demons stopped in their tracks, and the others all looked to Spike. He saw a few that he recognized as locals, but there were at least two that he’d never seen before. Willy was behind the bar and when he realized it was Spike who was yelling, he tried to speak.

“Oh, hey there Spike, what uh what’s going on, I mean what’s the problem--”

“Shut your gob, Willy!” Willy obliged and clammed up, face twitching. Spike looked at each of the demons, taking stock of threats. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, not yielding an inch for anyone to try and barge past. 

“Now,” he said with a facade of calm. “Let’s have a chat. I hear there’s someone looking to take on the Slayer.” He tried to watch all of them at once, looking for a flinch, some kind of sign of a guilty conscience. Nothing. “Anyone have anything they’d like to tell me?”

There was a long moment of silence before Willy spoke up.

“Uh Spike?” The idiot sort of waved his hand to get Spike’s already focused attention. “I uh, you know, may have heard something about someone looking to do that kind of thing.”

Spike stared at Willy, letting the hunger he still felt bleed into his face just a little, just enough to make Willy flinch.

“Get out,” he said quietly to the room. The demons didn’t need telling twice. They all leapt up with a scraping of chairs and made a beeline for the backdoor, since Spike was still in the front doorway.

Once the bar had emptied, he prowled to the bar and leaned both hands against it. 

“Now,” he said, still speaking softly so that Willy had to lean in to hear what he said. “What do you know?”

“J-just that there’s some new guy in town who’s been asking about the Slayer, you know, what she looks like, where she goes around, real suspicious guy, I meant to tell you about it but you haven’t been in for a while and--”

“What’s this bloke look like?” asked Spike, cutting through Willy’s blathering with a steel voice.

He saw Willy’s Adam’s apple jump as the man gulped. “I mean, I’ve never really got a great look at him, it’s always so dark in here--” Spike growled and Willy’s eyes widened further and he rushed, “--b-but he’s a tall guy, real thick, built like a tank or something, a-and he smells! Yeah, he smells a lot like garbage, real distinctive-like.”

He was nodding furiously as though trying to convey his earnestness. Spike stared him down, waiting to see if there was anything else, but Willy--in his honest terror--seemed to have told him everything.

“Right then,” he said, pushing off the bar. “If I find out you lied to me, you’re gonna get to say bye to all your favorite bits. Y’get me?”

“Y-yeah, s-sure, Spike, I got you, nothing but the truth, I swear!” Willy crossed his heart and raised his hand, but Spike was already on his way out the bar. 

Some sort of garbage demon was gunning for the Slayer. He’d never heard of a thing that smelled like garbage, but there was a lot of weird shit in the underworld. He turned toward Revello Drive for the second night in a row. He had to warn Buffy, and maybe get the Scoobies on the books for this demon. He and the Slayer’d go out hunting. Spike would find this trash demon. Nothing was going to take his Buffy away from him again.

* * *

 

When Spike got to Revello Drive, he was met with a dark house. It appeared that the Summers sisters and their two witchy roommates weren’t home. Spike swore and loped off toward his crypt. Maybe Buffy had gone looking for him, wanting him to join her on patrol. They’d talked about it briefly before he’d left that evening, so he figured it was the best place to find her. 

His graveyard was dark and quiet, just the sound of the trees rustling and leaves cavorting over headstones. Spike bounded to his crypt, thinking perhaps Buffy would be inside. He yanked open the door and was met with the sight of Buffy, standing just inside the door with a stake raised to strike.

Spike quickly took a step back and raised his hands. “Whoa there, Slayer. It’s just me. Or ain’t I allowed in my own place?”

Buffy blushed a little, putting more color in her pale skin. It was odd seeing a Californian girl so pale, but this California girl had just died recently.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and stepped aside so he could enter. “I thought you were--I don’t know.”

Spike closed the door behind him and looked at her closely. He’d seen her just over two hours ago, but it felt like ages. After learning that there was some sort of trash demon after her, he’d been worrying over her. Now face to face, he calmed slightly. She was whole and seemed unbothered. Her thick white sweater and jeans were free of grass stains which meant she’d just started patrol. 

Buffy was looking at Spike just as closely as he was her, and she asked, “Spike, is everything okay? You look a bit crazy around the eyes.”

She reached her fingers toward his face but didn’t bring them all the way to his cheeks. He could feel the heat of her hands and longed to pull her close, to reassure himself that she was, really, okay. But now was not the time.

“I’m alright,” he said, stepping around her and moving to open his fridge. His hunger was nearly overpowering at this point so he pulled out a bottle and drank deeply. Finishing off his second to last jar of blood, he turned back to her. Rather than looking disgusted that Spike was drinking human blood, Buffy didn’t seem fazed at all. 

“Listen, Slayer,” he began, motioning to his two chairs and sitting in his second favorite one. Buffy smiled a little as she sat down in his chair, the far more comfortable one of the two. “Remember Darin from last night?”

Her brow furrowed (he felt weird just thinking the word, but it was  _ adorable _ ) and she shook her head. “I don’t really remember a whole lot about last night. Except there were kittens involved.”

Spike nodded and continued. “He’s the one with the spikes all over him. Weird pointy bloke.” It was Buffy’s turn to nod, though she still seemed vaguely confused. “Anyway, I ran into him tonight. Well, ran my fists into him. He made some noise about the kittens (which I won, fair and square) but then said that there was some new big bad in town that was looking for you.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and settled back into his chair. “Is that all? Spike, I’ve been dealing with ‘the big bad’ since I was fifteen. I’m sure I can handle whatever this Darin guy says is after me.”

“And I don’t doubt that,” Spike said reassuringly. “But I went by Willy’s Place, and he said it’s some bloke that smells like rubbish. Now, I’ve never heard of this kinda demon, so I’m thinking you should get your mates on it and see what they turn up. You and I can do some intense patrolling and try to--”

“Sniff him out?” Buffy grinned and Spike couldn’t help but grin back. The Slayer’s penchant for puns was well known in the demon world, but it was always a laugh when he got to be there for one. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Buffy was quiet as she took this information in. It sounded stupid, Spike knew. Hunted by a rubbish demon? It sounded like the sort of story Spike would’ve come up with back when he was pushing her hard about his feelings for her. When he’d done stupid things to spend time with her.

“Yeah, we can take it to Giles and Anya,” Buffy said finally. “If Giles doesn’t know, I bet Anya will. Honestly, I’m surprised that you don’t know.”

“What, because I’m rubbish?” Spike said, a tone of mock offense in his voice. Though if that was what she meant, the offense might be a bit more real.

“No, stupid,” Buffy replied, smiling. “Don’t all you demons know each other?”

Spike gave her the bird and leaned back in his own chair. “So what’s the plan tonight then?”

Buffy shrugged. “I guess we can go patrol for trashy demons and I’ll talk to the gang in the morning.”

“Speaking of Scoobies, I dropped by your house looking to tell you all this but no one’s home. Where’s the Niblet and the witches?”

“Dawn’s staying at a friend’s house and Willow and Tara are at some sort of Wicca retreat in the desert. Or Burning Man. Maybe they’re the same thing, actually.”

“So,” Spike said slowly. “After patrol you could stay here. If you wanted,” he added in a rush. 

Buffy blushed again and looked down at her lap. Spike wished he could know what she was thinking, and what that blush was about.

“We’ll see,” she said, giving him a flare of hope. The idea of spending two nights in a row with Buffy was extremely enticing. He might even propose doing more than reading this time.

“Right then,” he said in a business-like manner, standing up and straightening his jacket. “Let’s get off then. Er, I mean, let’s head out on patrol. Kill some baddies.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, not commenting on his double entendre, and got up. “Where should we look for a trash demon, anyway?”

“The dump?” Spike suggested. “Maybe like goes with like and that’s where he’s made his lair.”

“I could see that,” Buffy agreed. Then she sighed. “You take me to the nicest places.”

Spike had to bite his tongue so he couldn’t say exactly where he’d like to take her. His eyes looked over her puffy sweater and he felt disappointment well in him. He knew she was beautiful, but all swaddled up like this he only got to appreciate her face, rather than all of her. 

He shook his head.  _ Focus _ , he thought.  _ Trash demon _ .

Buffy led the way to the dump, Spike following just behind her. Last night he’d been careful not to be pushy. For one, she’d been drunk. For another, he still wasn’t all that sure that she felt the same about him or if she was even interested in bedding down with a demon (again). All the cuddling that day seemed to indicate that yes, she was interested, but inviting the Slayer to your bed needed a little more encouragement than that. The last thing he wanted was to go in for a kiss and get a punch in the mouth instead. 

No, he decided. He’d wait for Buffy to make a move that was a definite yes. He didn’t know how long getting to that point would take, but he was a vampire. Unless someone staked him or stuck him in the sun, he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d follow this woman as long it took for her to love him back. 


	4. Not About Kittens Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Spike go trash demon hunting, and Buffy finally takes action.

Buffy had been to the dump a few times in the past. Most of her visits were not memorable. In fact, the only trip worth noting was when Xander had been hit by the Toth demon with a weird spell that duplicated him. Other than that, it was just a run of the mill spot for demons to go underground.

With Spike at her side, she was constantly reminded of their day together. After Spike had left, she’d showered and ate dinner. Dawn had still been there and they’d chatted--well, Dawn chattered and Buffy sat there and listened, making the occasional necessary listening noise. Dawn was used to Buffy’s lack of participation in discussions by now, though she still had trouble hiding her discomfort and worry when Buffy was quiet. But tonight Buffy wasn’t concerned with how her sister felt about her silence. She was still wrapped in the memory of Spike’s low voice reading to her, his muscular arms around her, his long body pressed beside hers…

Buffy shook herself. They were very close to the dump now, but she didn’t remember the walk. Her mind had been focused on Spike, who, after the events of the day, was more distracting than ever. 

She could hear him walking behind her, his boots crunching on a leaf now and then. This caused her to think of his legs, long and hard…

“Spike!” she blurted out, eager to force her thoughts away from this new and mildly alarming avenue. 

“What?” hissed Spike, dropping to a crouch and looking around intently.

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing like that.” Buffy’s cheeks warmed as Spike stood up and stuck his hands back in his coat pockets. His jacket was annoyingly flattering, outlining his shoulders and draping in a way that made him look taller than he was. “I was just going to ask if you’d remembered anything about the trash demon.”

Spike cocked his head, causing Buffy to flush again.  _ Calm down, Slayer! You’re hunting, you’re not about to throw caution to the wind and jump Spike in the middle of the street. _

“No, pet, I haven’t,” he said, brushing past her to take the lead. “Still been thinkin’, tho.” Buffy followed as his long black coat danced around his calves. “I ‘spose we’re just doing a bit of recon tonight? Learn what we can, take it back to the Scoobies?”

“That’s Plan B,” she said, hurrying a bit so she could walk at his side and not get distracted by his walk again. 

“What’s Plan A, then? Take it on ourselves, hope we don’t die?” Spike chuckled quietly and said, “That would be the Slayer’s plan.”

“It’d make things easier,” Buffy replied without thinking, still trying to wrangle her thoughts away from Spike’s muscles. 

“Scuse me?” 

Buffy kept walking until she realized Spike was no longer beside her. She turned to see him standing still, head cocked and eyes wide. It was his expression that brought what she’d just said to her mind, at last pushing away all thoughts of what Spike might look like naked. His face was filled with emotion. A mix of anger, love, and despair screamed from his eyes, which were locked on hers. 

“I meant,” she said slowly, “that taking out the trash demon now would make things easier. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about him hurting anyone.” 

She began walking again, suddenly not caring whether Spike followed her or not. She’d been so consumed by thoughts of him today that she’d nearly forgotten the things she’d been saying lately. Telling Spike how badly she hurt being back here, how happy she’d been when she was in heaven...or wherever that place had been. 

Her explanation for what she’d said worked, but now she was unsure whether she was covering or being honest. When she’d said, “It’d make things easier,” it had been an unconscious response, but with how she felt right now…

“It was a reflex,” Buffy said quietly. She heard Spike’s steps behind her once more, but he didn’t say anything. “I’ve just gotten used to...well, not wanting to be around, and I didn’t really think about what I was saying.”

Still no response from Spike, so she plowed on. “Last month, last week, even yesterday, I would be diving into this trash demon thing headfirst, throwing caution to the wind. Dying...even if it hurts, it couldn’t be worse than being alive, right?” A soft chuckle drifted over her shoulder and Buffy gave a wry smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ve died twice, and I want to do it a third time? Definitely crazy. But after today, I don’t know what I want anymore.” She hesitated, half-expecting Spike to make a snarky comment. When it didn’t come, she continued. “It was...nice. Being with you today. It’s not just that you helped me to feel something, anything, in a way I haven’t since coming back. It’s  _ what  _ you made me feel: content. Happy, even. I never thought I’d say this, but Spike--”

She heard a low whooshing noise and ducked on instinct, but she wasn’t quick enough. Something large and heavy collided with the back of her head, sending her forward onto the ground. She hit with her hands beneath her, knees thudding against the concrete with enough force to bruise her--if she bruised, anyway.

She shoved herself away from the ground, standing up and whirling around in one motion. “Spike, what the f--”

But it wasn’t Spike behind her. The smell hit her suddenly, like a massive dumpster fire. Before her was a massive demon, with yellow skin stretched tight over bones, thin enough in some places to show the red muscles underneath. It was at least two feet taller than her, and it--whatever it was--was glaring at her with hatred boiling out of two fiery eyes. 

“Slayer!” It yelled in a thick, gravelly voice. She took a quick step sideways and glanced behind him, searching for Spike. 

Her eyes focused on a hump in the concrete, a shiny black lump with a white blonde rock at one end.

Spike.

Rage coursed through her and she kicked out at the demon’s left leg, hoping to take him down and bring that stupid ugly head to her level. But it was faster than she’d expected, and it dodged out of her way, almost dancing backward.

It chuckled, a deep thunderous sound that swept into her chest where she could feel it. 

“I heard you were tough shit, Slayer.” Its voice was deep, almost sonorous, as it rolled across her.

“Oh yeah?” she shot back, barely keeping her anger (and fear over Spike’s unconscious appearance) in check. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you. What are you?”

Usually the demons fell for it. They’d tell her their name, rank, and serial number and she’d file it away for Giles before kicking ass. But the trash demon was apparently too intent on murdering her to answer questions. 

It lunged forward, flinging its stench before it like a wave. Buffy fought back a cough and batted aside its muscular arms. A flurry of blows passed between them, nothing landing until Buffy managed to connect her foot to its back. It stumbled but recovered quickly. Whatever this thing was, it was strong enough to withstand a full-strength Slayer kick. 

Buffy spared a brief glance over her shoulder at Spike, who still lay there on the ground, unmoving. With adrenaline pumping through her veins it was hard to tell if she was concerned or just in battle mode, but her brain was making up for this bodily confusion. 

_ Spike get up you have to get up please I need you _ .

A steady stream of chanting was sounding inside her skull but she forced herself to focus on the trash demon. She was not about to die for the third time while smelling like a dumpster. 

The demon turned back to face her, a devilish grin revealing rotted teeth and a long black tongue that dripped yellow liquid. 

“Truly, you are a fierce opponent. But I think for now I’ll leave you to care for your lover.” The trash demon stood up from his fighting stance, grin still wide on his face. “I’ll see you again, Slayer.” And with that he was running. 

The Slayer was pounding inside of her, desperate to give chase and finish him off. But Buffy realized it would be reckless to go alone. And Spike was still down.

She dashed to his side and kneeled, carefully turning him by the shoulders of his leather jacket. He flopped onto his back, eyes still closed. There was a trail of borrowed blood rolling down his temple, starkly apparent against his white skin. She shook him gently.

“Spike? Spike, wake up.” 

Not a twitch. 

Buffy felt a small part of her begin to crumble, but she forced herself to stay calm and not think about either why she felt the way she did or what she’d do if Spike didn’t wake up.

“Alright, Spike. Let’s go.” With a groan, Buffy heaved Spike over her shoulder, his leather coat flapping against her sides as she positioned him across her back. It wasn’t far back to his crypt, but it would be far enough when carrying a solid vampire. Spike  _ would  _ be alright. Buffy was in no mood to give him a choice in the matter.

“This is great,” she said as she lugged the unconscious vampire back to the graveyard. “Taking care of a vampire again. It’s like Angel all over again. Though I guess this time I’m not too worried about Spike trying to attack me.” 

She walked along in silence, shifting Spike over her shoulders every few minutes. She thought she felt him stir occasionally but when she craned her neck to check on him his eyes were still closed. 

“I guess you didn’t hear what I said before the trash demon attacked me,” she said quietly, passing under the streetlights of Sunnydale. “I don’t really know what I was about to say. Well. That’s not true.” Buffy looked back briefly, checking Spike again. Still asleep. “I guess I just want to say thank you. For being around. For last night, and today. I didn’t realize it, but I’ve missed having someone I can be close to. Sure, Dawn and I have snuggled but it’s different with a sister as opposed to a…” She trailed off, unwilling to place Spike into the position of quasi-boyfriend. 

The trash demon had called Spike her lover. Is that how they looked? She wondered now how the other demons perceived her relationship with Spike. She’d been hanging out with him fairly regularly recently, and the other night they’d both been out at a demon bar. 

They weren’t lovers, she told herself. They’d certainly done anything...well, they’d slept together. Actually slept. She supposed that wasn’t something that casual friends did. And her thoughts before the trash demon had shown up were definitely  _ not _ casual.

Buffy let her thoughts trail off, no longer controlling them as she had before the last fight. Her mind wandered over Spike for the rest of the walk to his crypt. It was difficult not to think about his body with it currently pressed against her back. In fact...as she shifted him once more across her back, preparing to set him down on one of the stone slabs in his dark mausoleum, she thought she felt the outline of his--

“Buffy?”

With a very small shriek, Buffy dropped Spike and leapt back. He gave a grunt as his back hit the stone and his hands flew to his head. 

“Ow, Jesus, Slayer! What was that for?” His voice was thick until he cleared his throat, and Buffy took those brief moments to collect herself. She had  _ not  _ felt anything and had certainly not been thinking about the nothing she felt. 

“Sorry, Spike. I just...didn’t expect you to wake up that quickly.” She moved back to his side and looked at him. She felt almost anxious as she waited for him to finish cataloguing his hurts. Finally he laid back, arms and legs relaxing against the cool stone.

“S’alright, Slayer.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze, seeming mildly surprised that she didn’t shy away from him now that he was awake. “What happened anyway? Last I recall, some foul stench hit me over the head.”

Buffy jumped up to sit beside Spike on the sarcophagus, shifting his jacket so she didn’t crush the leather. “It was the trash demon. It knocked you out and then snuck up on me.”

“How’d it get past your Slayer senses, I wonder?” Spike asked, but he seemed to be asking rhetorically, which saved Buffy from lying about where her thoughts had been before the attack. 

She didn’t answer, just looked down at him as he laid there. The trickle of blood on his temple had smeared while she’d carried him. Without thinking she reached down and wiped it away with her sleeve. Spike twitched lightly, but didn’t respond. When she’d finished cleaning his skin and taken back her hand, he looked at her. 

“I’m glad you didn’t go after it by yourself, Slayer,” he said quietly. “Wouldn’t’ve been safe. That demon’s no tiptoe through the tulips.”

“I know, Spike,” she replied just as quietly. “I’ll need you with me to fight it. And…” 

She trailed off but Spike didn’t let her words disappear. “And what, Buffy?”

Again she met his eyes. With another surge of adrenaline, she said, “And I was worried about you. You don’t get knocked out often, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She kept her eyes on his, unwilling to look away, wanting to gauge his reaction. Even after their time together, she didn’t know how he’d react to hearing that maybe, just maybe, she felt for him the way he did for her. 

Spike said nothing. He simply found her hand with his and held it, cool skin pressing against her warmth. 

Following a sudden whim, Buffy leaned down quickly and kissed Spike gently on the lips. She felt him startle, just as he had when she’d wiped the blood of his temple. But then he relaxed into her mouth, his free hand coming up to press lightly against the back of her head. 

At last, Buffy drew away, breathing deeply. Spike’s hand trailed through her hair as she pulled away, catching on a few knots. 

Eyes still locked on hers, Spike whispered hoarsely, “Damn, Slayer.”


	5. Someone's a Sexy Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Spike pick up where they left off. 
> 
> Kittens aren't even in the story anymore, but I feel like I've committed to having "kitten" in the chapter titles so I'm carrying on. 
> 
> Also, this is the first sex scene I've ever written (spoiler: there's a sex scene) and I feel the need to apologize for it. But it's where the story went and I couldn't just do a "Titanic" style fog montage.

Spike and Buffy sat in silence, Spike looking stunned that she’d just kissed him. She’d expected...well she didn’t know what she’d expected, but it hadn’t occurred to her that he would just sit there. She’d seen him with the Buffy Bot and knew just how vigorous he could get when it came to sex. But now he simply laid back and looked at her.

Buffy shifted and cleared her throat. “Sorry, Spike, I shouldn’t have--”

“Are you sure?” Spike interrupted, his voice cutting through her mumbling. “I mean, I know you’ve been more than a bit down and I’m happy to keep you comp’ny, but if you’re just messing about...well I can’t take that, Buffy. If you’re gonna give me part of you, know that I want the rest of you too.”

Still seated beside him on the stone slab, Buffy stared dumbly at him. “What?”

Spike’s hand entered her vision and took her own. “You know how I feel about you,” he said gently. “So if you’re just looking for a bit o’ relief, ‘fraid I can’t do that. Wouldn’t be fair to neither of us.”

She looked at him. His eyes were kind, just as they’d been for most of their time together since she’d come back.

“So,” she began slowly, feeling his fingers in hers, calluses against hers. “Your reason for not kissing me back is because you want to make sure I’m not just taking advantage of you?”

“More or less,” he said, one corner of his mouth turning up.

“I think,” she began cautiously, “that it would be stupid for me to say I don’t have feelings for you, Spike.” She met his eyes briefly and saw a thrill of victory cross his face. Smiling again, she went on. “I’ve been relying on you a lot since they brought me back. At first it was just because you understood, and didn’t make me feel like shit for hating the life I got back. But lately, it’s been more that you just make me feel comfortable, Spike.” Buffy met his eyes, which hadn’t left her face while she spoke. “Of course, after today, I’m slightly less comfortable than usual being close to you but that’s entirely physical.”

This last bit she said in a rush, mildly embarrassed at her vague admission of desire. Spike’s slight grin turned a bit cocky, and he cradled the back of his head with his hands.

“Just as I suspected,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back. “The high and mighty Slayer couldn’t resist the Big Bad.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes and punched him in the ribs. Spike grunted, and grabbed her hand, holding it gently once more.

“Seriously though, Buffy,” he said, and his voice dropped its casual playfulness. “If what you’re saying is true, then…” He sat up, one hand still holding hers while the other came up to brush her hair over her shoulder.

“Then what?” Buffy asked as he brought his face to hers, breath hitching slightly. Hearing this, his eyes sparkled and he grinned.

Without a word, he leaned forward and kissed her in a rush. Momentarily taken aback, Buffy let herself be kissed by Spike, all concern for the trash demon gone from her head. When her brain caught up with what was happening, she pulled his hand around her waist and brought her other hand to the back of his head, as though trying to crush his mouth to hers. Spike growled quietly and let his hand travel up her back, which arched to feel his hand on her. Feeling the urge to be closer to him, Buffy twisted until she was astride Spike’s lap, made taller by her new position and relishing his hands which now roamed up and down her waist, briefly skirting the tops of her thighs before caressing upwards once more.

As Spike’s thumbs traced the crease where her thighs met her stomach, crushed onto him as she was, Buffy couldn’t stop herself from biting Spike’s lower lip, causing Spike to moan in such a way that elicited an answering moan from her. Spike’s hands began to pull her hips backward and forward over his lap, where Buffy could feel a hardness that wasn’t just Spike’s own bony hips.

It had been a long time since Riley and feeling Spike’s erection beneath her reminded her how much she’d enjoyed (and missed) sex. Buffy groaned into Spike’s mouth, no longer needing Spike’s guiding hands to slide herself over Spike’s cock, wanting him to be closer.

“Out,” Buffy growled into Spike’s mouth, biting his lip again.

She opened her eyes and saw that Spike looked confused, so she ground into him harder until realization lit up his face. With alacrity, he flipped her over onto her back, and kneeled over her while he unzipped his jeans. As he did so, he lifted an eyebrow at Buffy’s own pants, which she began pulling down immediately.

When Buffy was finally greeted by the sight of Spike’s cock springing out of his jeans she groaned, mind already consumed with the idea of him inside her. She kicked her pants off as he pulled first his shirt over his head and then her own, pausing as she arched her back so it came off more easily. The top of the sarcophagus was cold and harsh, the stone scraping against Buffy’s back. Before Spike could react, she flipped them over again, slamming him down and climbing onto him once more, feeling his cock on her inner thighs.

Spike grinned, tongue between his teeth, and said, “Should’ve figured you for a top.”

Buffy didn’t reply but bent over and kissed him, her own tongue pushing his aside as it swept through his mouth. She began to move against him, his hands traveling up her thighs to her waist and then her breasts, cupping them with his cold fingers, massaging them. Buffy groaned into Spike’s mouth, and suddenly his hands were gone.

She’d barely opened her eyes when she found his fingers: one thumb caressed her clit while his fingers gently pushed inside her.

She gasped into Spike’s mouth, back arching involuntarily as he pushed deeper into her with his fingers, thumb drawing circles over her clit.

“Spike--” she breathed, moving against his hand almost without thinking. “I can’t wait--”

A hand pulled her lips down to his and Spike kissed her with a softness she was not expecting. She felt herself falling into the kiss when a thrust brought Spike’s cock right into her. Buffy moaned loudly as Spike hissed into her mouth. She opened her eyes, feeling him everywhere and met his gaze. He watched her as he began to move, slowly at first, so that all Buffy could do was moan quietly.

Eyes still locked, Spike began to move faster, hands gripping her hips, pulling her up and down with each upward motion. Recovering from the initial thrust, Buffy sat up, eyes still on Spike’s, and moved with him, hands on his arms. She felt his taut muscles and remembered his strength. Grinning suddenly, Buffy moved harder, knowing that Spike would start to match her new vigor. She watched him grin in response to her own smile, and felt him thrust harder, pushing himself deeper into her than ever.

Buffy grunted with the effort, but matched Spike thrust for thrust. She’d never had anything like this. Sex with Riley had been restrained as she’d not wanted to hurt him. But now--short of punching him in the face, Buffy wouldn’t hurt Spike by being eager.

She noticed when Spike winced and she paused. “Are you okay?”

“‘M fine, luv,” he said, panting from effort. “Just takin’ a mo to collect myself.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing slightly and she shifted as though to get off him, something she didn’t particularly want to do.

With a growl, Spike seized her hips, fingernails digging into her skin with a sharp pain. She inhaled sharply as Spike said, “You’re not going nowhere, pet.”

One of his hands slid across her hips, down to where their groins met and began to circle her clit with his thumb again. The combined sensations of Spike inside her and the gentle assault on the more sensitive spot made her moan again, and she pressed forward and down into his fingers. He began to move again, his thumb matching the slow speed of his cock pushing into her. His controlled movements were building her up even more than the fast and hard action from before. She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore and shut them tight, mouth open as she drank in the feeling of what Spike was doing to her. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, and she could hear his breathing quicken.

It wasn’t long until Buffy couldn’t take any more and with a gasping moan she came, fingers clenching on Spike’s arms, even as his pace increased. She heard him grunt and then air hissed through his teeth. She felt a throbbing inside her which told her Spike had come too, and together they ground into each other, hard breathing interspersed with moans.

With a final moan, Buffy collapsed forward onto Spike’s chest. His arms fell around her and held her close, even as she continued to shudder, limbs jerking occasionally. She felt his chest rise and fall, but it was silent in the crypt, no sound but their breathing.

She felt a gentle pressure on the top of her head and when she angled her head to meet his eyes, saw him smiling down at her.

She smiled in response, feeling it creep across her face. “What?” she asked, smile sounding in her voice.

Spike shrugged, the movement pulling her skin off of his briefly and she shivered as cold air rushed to cover her damp skin. “Just been thinking about what that’d be like for a while now, and I’ve got to say…” He trailed off, a grin covering his face again.

“Not what you expected?” Buffy said lightly, feeling a moment of concern flicker into her chest.

“Better,” Spike said quietly, a hand brushing over hair. “You were incredible, luv. God, the way you feel...Well it’s more than I imagined, I’ll tell you that.”

Buffy couldn’t help the smile that came over her face. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s the best you have to say, guess I’ll have to do better next time.”

Was that a note of hurt in Spike’s voice?

“Spike,” she said, pushing herself up so she could look into his face properly. “It was amazing. I’m being...I don’t know, light? Whatever the word, it was great. I mean it.”

It was Spike’s turn to grin and he pulled her back down on top of him.

“Glad to hear you say so, luv.”

They laid like that for several minutes, Buffy feeling more relaxed than she remembered being in either lifetime. It wasn’t just from the orgasm either. With Spike’s arms around her, Buffy felt safe.

With this thought, though, she remembered the trash demon. She groaned and sat up.

“Where do you think you’re going, eh?” asked Spike with mild indignance, attempting to hold her down.

She pushed aside his arms and said, “Trash demon. Scoobies.”

Spike frowned but said, “Fine then. I guess let’s go tell your gang about the latest bad.”

Buffy smiled and leaned down to kiss Spike swiftly on the lips, sitting up again before he could try to hold her down.

“There’ll more time for the ‘Big Bad’ later. Stop pouting, you’re too old for it.”

Spike smiled widely and said, “You do know how to motivate a bloke.”


	6. Angry Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief chat between Spike and Buffy as they head out to tell the gang about the latest bad.

Spike hauled his leather coat back on as Buffy looked for her shirt. In their exuberance, neither had really paid much attention to where they were flinging clothes. Spike watched her move, tan muscles flexing as she pulled her shirt over her head. After lusting after and then loving the woman for so long, Spike was having a bit of a hard time accepting the reality of what had just happened. The Buffy-Bot was one thing (which he’d never get over the embarrassment of) but the real woman had been almost more than he could handle. 

Now fully dressed, Buffy straightened up to see him watching her with a faint smile on his lips. Her mouth quirked and she asked, “What are you smiling at?”

Spike grinned and crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. “Just admirin’ the view.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled on her boot before standing up, hands on hips. “Time to gather the troops.”

“Aye-aye, general,” Spike said, giving a mock salute. 

They left the crypt, Buffy walking slightly ahead of Spike. Although she’d been the one to initiate their little jaunt just a bit ago, she seemed distant. Her arms weren’t crossed--always a clear sign that the Slayer was pissed--but Spike noticed that every few seconds one of her fists would clench before she forced it to relax.

Spike trotted up to her side and glanced down at her. She was chewing her lip and seemed to not notice that Spike was looking at her. 

“Alright, pet, what’s bugging you?” Spike asked finally, unwilling to let her stew in silence. He knew how unhelpful that could be for the Slayer.

“Hmm?” Buffy turned her head to look at him and only then seemed to notice that her teeth were worrying at her bottom lip. She freed her lip, but crossed her arms. “Nothing. Just worried about that trash demon.”

“Stop messin’ about.” Spike could feel the annoyance showing on his face, and wasn’t sure he wanted to bother wiping it off. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve gone silent, and now with the arm crossing.” Spike gestured at Buffy, who looked down and uncrossed her arms. “Now, you started what just happened back there,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t know if that’s what this pouting is all about, but since it appears to be the immediate precursor, I’ve got to think that somethin’ about all that has got you worried. Now, talk.”

It was Spike’s turn to cross his arms. There they were, him and the Slayer, stopped in the middle of a street in Sunnydale, just an hour out from being attacked by a monster that smelled like a bin. He’d never thought for a second that he’d actually get to lie with the Slayer, and he’d certainly never thought that afterwards she’d retreat into the cloud of solitude that normally wrapped her up. Spike wasn’t the most arrogant vampire he’d ever met ( _ Angelus _ ) but he knew he wasn’t a bad shag, which meant that the Slayer likely wasn’t perturbed about his attentions. Something else was on her mind. 

At last, Buffy sighed and looked at him. “They’re going to be pissed.”

Spike blinked. Buffy took this to mean he didn’t understand so she explained, “Willow. Xander. Dawn. They’re going to be furious that you and I are--” she gestured between them but didn’t give a label or a verb to what they were.

Spike scoffed. “Well, duh. I mean,” he continued, seeing Buffy’s eyes narrow slightly, “Xandumb has never liked me much. Or at all. That boy’s still hung up on you a little, if you ask me. Or even if he’s not, he hasn’t let go of his weird possessiveness. And the witch? The witch is hardly one to talk about choices. She’s the one who brought you back, which--although I’m beyond thrilled to have you back--was stupid. Could’ve gone seriously wrong if she hadn’t been as powerful as she is.” Spike could tell that Buffy shared his opinion on this. Dawn had told her about the reckless plan she’d made to bring Joyce back. A right Monkey’s Paw situation that would’ve been. “And the niblet? While you were gone, Niblet and I did some real connectin’. I think her opinion on me shagging you will surprise you.”

He could see her taking in his words, could see that she was thinking about them seriously, even if she still had doubts. Spike took a step forward so that he was standing right in front of Buffy, close enough to brush her sweater with his jacket sleeve as he raised a hand to her cheek. 

“But they don’t matter, Buffy,” he whispered, looking into her eyes. Her beautiful, green eyes. “If you’re alright with whatever we are, and it don’t need a label right now, then that should be good enough.”

Buffy leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. A stray hair crossed her forehead as a breeze picked up, and Spike lifted a hand to gently tuck it behind her ear. They stood there for a few moments, Buffy breathing and Spike listening to her. Content. He’d meant what he said. Willow’s little ritual could’ve gone seriously wrong. Buffy could’ve been wrong. If they’d asked Spike--which they hadn’t--he would’ve given a firm no. Buffy Summers didn’t deserve to live as a shambling mess, or a demon, or whatever else could’ve gone wrong. Spike wouldn’t’ve risked that. No matter how badly he’d missed her while she was dead. 

Buffy eyes opened and met his. He smiled gently, eliciting a return smile, something he hadn’t seen too often since she’d been brought back. 

“You ready to g--” Spike began but Buffy reached up and kissed his words away. It was a soft kiss, not like their hungry exchange earlier. Spike felt Buffy in that kiss, neatly summed up. There was strength in her arms as she pulled him close, but the softness in her lips reflected the girl who’d died to save the world. The girl he loved.

Buffy pulled away, still smiling, and said, “I’m ready.”


	7. No More Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to 1630 Revello, where there are no more kittens but still plenty of misunderstanding and sexual tension.

It was quite late by the time Buffy and Spike stood in front of 1630 Revello, just after midnight. Buffy could see a light on in Willow and Tara’s room, but the rest of the house was dark. On their walk over from the graveyard, Buffy had wondered if it would be better to wait until morning to call the gang for a meeting, but Spike had pointed out that the trash demon had sought Buffy out  _ and _ knocked him out. Which meant garbage boy probably wouldn’t mind coming to the Slayer’s own house and starting a fight.

Which meant, like it or not, Buffy had to wake up her friends. 

She’d been doing her best to not bother them lately. Just walk around, be a big sister to Dawn, and get on with the Slaying. But whether it was because Buffy thought the trash demon was sufficiently dangerous or because Spike was starting to bring her back to life, she felt it was time for them all to work together again.

So they stood together, staring up at the white and brick house. Spike waited patiently at her side, his hand close enough to brush hers if she shifted just a little. 

“We goin’ in or not, Slayer?” asked Spike abruptly. Well, she thought he’d been patient.

“Yeah. We’re going in,” she replied, but still she didn’t move. 

Spike sighed and pulled out his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. “You know,” he said casually as he lit one up and expelled a stream of smoke. “You don’t have to tell them right away.”

She turned to face him, forcibly not crossing her arms after he called attention to it the last time she did. “You mean that we’re sleeping together?”

An uncontrollable smile spread across the blonde vampire’s face, and cigarette smoke drifted through his teeth. “Yeah, that. Which we are, in more than one sense I suppose, eh?”

A flash back to the peace of lying in bed with Spike while he read Shakespeare to her, followed by the memory of Spike bucking beneath her. Buffy shifted her stance slightly as desire flared up in her again, which only made Spike grin more widely as he noticed.

“Anyway,” he continued, taking another drag, “You don’t have to tell them anything. We were patrollin’ tonight and ran into old smelly. No reason they have to know the rest right away.”

Buffy frowned. “I don’t know if I want to lie to them.”

“Pet,” said Spike softly. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re already lyin’ to them. ‘Bout where you were.”

Guilt rushed in. Buffy felt it grip her heart once more, where it hadn’t been for the past day or so she’d been with Spike. He’d helped her forget the pain of being back in this world, but he was right. She’d actually thanked Willow and the others for getting her out of where she’d been. She’d said it was bad, when really it had been the most wonderful experience of her existence. 

She shook her head. “Fine, so I’m lying to them. That doesn’t mean I should just keep piling on the lies.”

Spike shrugged, flicking his cigarette off into the night. “So tell them, then. I don’t see it going too well for me, but they love you. Might give you a smack upside the head, but they’ll be alright. Probably.”

“ _ Probably _ ,” said Buffy with distaste. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Xander will yell at me, Willow will be confused, Dawn--well you’re right about Dawn, she’ll probably be just fine with it.”

“The witch’s girl’ll probably be nice about it,” Spike said in a helpful tone. “She’s not the type to throw a fuss over someone else’s business.”

“Are you trying to give me a pep talk?” Buffy asked in mild surprise. 

Spike shrugged again and thrust his hands into the pocket of his duster. “Not doin’ a very good job of it, but yeah, I s’pose I am.”

Buffy paused to let the idea of Spike--a vampire who’d been dead for over a century--giving the Slayer--a girl destined to kill him and his kind--an inspiration speech sink in. It didn’t seem to fit very well into her framework of reality, but then she’d also just had sex with an undead being for the second time in her life (lives?), so her framework wasn’t necessarily structurally sound.

“Right then,” she said, taking a deep breath and turning back to face her home once more.

“‘Once more unto the breach,’” Spike muttered under his breath before catching Buffy’s inquisitive eye. “ _ Henry V _ ,” he said by way of explanation.

“I swear, you’re even geekier than Giles sometimes.” Buffy turned and walked up the steps to her front door. She paused for a brief moment before opening the heavy door quietly. Spike closed the door behind them as she said, “I’ll go wake Willow and Tara.”

“Dawn?” Spike asked.

Buffy shook her head. “Not yet. Let her sleep.”

Spike wandered into the living room as she made her way upstairs, down the hall to her mother’s old room. She could still remember how the house had felt with Joyce in it: warm, comfortable, safe. It didn’t feel that way anymore. Not since Buffy had come home to find her on the couch.

Buffy shook her head and knocked lightly at the door. “Wil? Tara?”

She heard a quiet gasp, some rustling, and then footsteps padding toward her. The door opened a crack to reveal Tara’s round face.

“Oh. Hey, Buffy,” she said. Buffy noted the tousled hair and suddenly wondered what her own hair looked like. She fought the urge to reach up and pat it down.

“Can you and Willow come downstairs?” 

Tara’s head tilted slightly to one side as she gazed at Buffy, as though she were trying to figure out by sight alone what was going on. Or maybe Buffy’s hair was tousled like Tara’s and she was wondering how it got that way.

“Yeah, we’ll be right down, Buffy,” said Tara in a comforting way before closing the door gently. 

Buffy turned around, feeling vaguely confused. Had she just not been talking to Tara that much lately, or had Tara always spoken with so much care? Nonplussed, Buffy quietly looked in on Dawn, who was curled up in her bed. Judging by the lack of mewing coming from her own room, the kittens had been removed.

She walked back downstairs and found Spike on the couch flipping through a photo album. He was chuckling to himself and tried to hide the album behind a pillow when he saw her walk in.

“Oh, hullo, Slayer,” he said hurriedly. “Girls on their way down then?” 

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “What were you laughing at?”

Spike widened his own eyes in response and put on an unconvincingly innocent expression. “Just some old photos of you and the niblet, nothing special.”

“Hand it over,” she demanded, holding out a hand.

“I said it was nothing!” Spike was trying far too hard to sound casual, so she stalked over and tried to snatch the photo album. He’d probably found a photo of her in the bath, the perv.

Spike put one hand out to hold Buffy off, using his other hand to shove the photo album under the couch cushion. “Really, Slayer, you’re overreact--hey!”

Buffy had smacked Spike’s temple, hoping to shock him into letting go of the album. “Hand it over!”

It was Spike’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Make me,” he said in a dangerously soft voice, tongue between his teeth. Buffy stilled as an unexpected wave of desire washed over her, a sudden heat taking over her lady bits.

Driven by this heat, Buffy swept Spike’s blocking arm to the side and leapt down on him, pinning him to the couch with her knees. With one hand she gripped his wrist and twisted it away from her, eliciting a hiss from Spike that was either pain or pleasure. She couldn’t tell. With her other hand she forced the hand Spike held around the album slowly out from the cushion, feeling his strength as he struggled to keep it away from her. But she was still the Slayer and he was just a vampire, and she pulled his hand free of the cushion, album still clutched in his fingers. She twisted the wrist that held it, causing him to release it as she swiftly pulled his hand down and crushed it with her knee. With her free hand, she picked up the album and held it next to his face.

“I just did, chuckles,” she said in her own soft and dangerous voice. Buffy could see a light in his eyes that she’d seen earlier in his crypt. She was seconds from kissing him when she heard a cough behind them.

Immediately, Buffy threw herself to the side, rolling off Spike who tried to casually straighten his jacket. Standing up, Buffy saw Willow and Tara standing in the doorway. Tara looked shocked but she was also covering a smile with her hand. Her eyes were full of laughter. Willow just looked shocked, like she didn’t know how to react to the sight of Buffy astride Spike.

Buffy glanced at Spike, who was thankfully not speaking or showing any expression at all really except for curiosity. He appeared to be studying the ceiling.

“Well,” Buffy started, unsure of what to say, but Tara interrupted.

“So what did you need to talk to us about, Buffy?” she asked, a little more hurriedly than was normal, but Buffy appreciated the sharp veer away from the position she’d just been in with Spike.

“Right,” Buffy said, eyes darting to and from Willow’s face. “So, there’s this demon. A trash demon. He’s, uh, big. And smelly.” She stopped. Buffy could see that Willow was thinking, processing. Tara’s distraction hadn’t quite worked on everyone in the room. 

It was Spike’s turn to interrupt. “I met a demon earlier tonight. Idiot, name of Darin. He’s the one who gave me the heads up, that there was some new bloke in town askin’ about the Slayer. I went to Willy’s, asked some questions of my own, and that’s how I found out it’s some sort of rubbish demon who’s out for our girl’s blood.” 

With the phrase “our girl,” Spike casually gestured to Buffy, who saw Willow’s eyes trail his hand through the air. Finally, Willow met Buffy’s gaze, and with a start Buffy heard her friend’s voice in her head.

_ Buffy, can I talk to you in the kitchen? _

Her eyes widened. This was new. She nodded, and then Willow led the way out of the living room. Buffy glanced over her shoulder as they went and saw Spike’s concerned expression. She shrugged in his direction, and then saw Tara watching them go with a worried look on her own face. When she caught Buffy’s eye, she gave an encouraging smile that still had a tinge of anxiety to it.

In the kitchen, Willow walked around the island to stand across from Buffy, her arms crossed. Before Willow could speak, Buffy asked, “How long have you been able to do that? The mind thingy.”

Unfazed, Willow said, “I was using it while you were gone to help during hunts. Buffy, what is going on?”

“Oh. Right. Hunting without me. I think I remember you mentioning…” Buffy trailed off as Willow raised her eyebrows meaningfully, a serious expression still on her face.

Buffy cleared her throat. “You mean, what’s going on--”

“With you and Spike, yeah!” Willow burst out, uncrossing and then crossing her arms again. “I mean, last year he was all ‘uh Buffy I love you, look at this robot I had made of you, I have sex with it’ and I thought we were all pretty clear that that was pretty messed up.” There was almost a note of pleading buried beneath the disgust in Willow’s voice.

“Well, yeah, the Buffybot was really, really messed up, but he’s...changed. He’s better now,” Buffy said, doing her best not to sound defensive. Which, she realized, she sort of was.

“He’s ‘better’?” asked Willow, rolling her eyes slightly. “Come on, Buff, what’s going on? Okay, you-you’ve been a little...I don’t know, distant since we brought you back from hell and now you’re--you’re what? Teaming up with Spike? He called you ‘his girl’, Buffy.”

“‘Our girl’”, she replied automatically. Defensively. Quieter, she said, “He said ‘our girl’.”

“Oh, and that makes it less creepy?” Willow asked disbelievingly.

“You just don’t understand.” Buffy had been right. Willow was not taking this well. She didn’t even fully know what there was to understand, but she was not off to a great start. 

“Understand what, Buffy?” Hurt. Exasperation. Emotions were filling Willow’s voice and it was...a lot. “We hardly talk anymore, okay, I-I barely even know what’s going on with you, and now you’re--”

“Sleeping with Spike.”

She said it quietly. She didn’t know if she’d meant to say it, but she’d certainly been thinking it. She glanced at Willow, who once more looked shocked. She looked away.

“Oh.”

Silence. Normally what Buffy wanted when she was with her friends, wanted to not have to talk or try, but this silence filled the space between them and almost seemed to push them apart. Willow twisted her thumbs, fingers twiddling madly.

“How--” Willow started, but then broke off, mouth still working to form words.

Buffy took a deep breath. It felt like now or never.

“Wil, I--”

_ CRASH. _

From the living room came the sound of breaking glass, followed by a hard thud as something slammed into the living room floor.

Without a second glance at Willow, Buffy darted into the other room, saying, “Spike! Dawn!”

“On it!” came his reply, and she saw a slip of black leather nipping around the corner to the stairs as she came face to face with a stench that almost knocked her over.

Spike had been right. The trash demon was serious about taking on Buffy. And he’d come calling at 1630 Revello Dr.


	8. Could've Gone Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's official. No more kittens. But this trash demon bit is slowly going somewhere, as Buffy worries about what she'll say to the gang about Spike.

The demon’s appearance hadn’t changed in the few hours that had passed since their first encounter. It was still big and still ugly, but its scent seemed to have become even more overpoweringly awful than before. Somehow.

“Buffy--?” called Willow from behind her. She didn’t take her eyes off the monster before her but she called out in response, “Yep, this is Mr Trashy.”

It growled at her, red eyes locked on hers, taking no notice of Willow behind her. Good.

“My name is--”

“Yeah, I don’t really care what your name is,” said Buffy, interrupting the demon. “I’ve never really liked the ‘Monologuing Demon’ bit. You want to kill me, I’m going to destroy you, and that’s all we really need to say. ‘Kay?”

The 7 foot tall monster just roared in response and lunged straight at her. Buffy prepared to sidestep its lunge and kick out as it barreled past but with a faint crackle she watched as its massive body collided against an invisible wall with a thud.

Buffy was confused for only a moment before she whirled around to see Willow standing there, outwardly calm except for her eyes which were widened in surprise. Her hands were up in front of her, poised as if warding someone off. Warding the demon off.

“Willow, what are you doing?” Buffy asked, anger sweeping unexpectedly into her head. “I can’t fight it if you’re gonna throw a wall between us.”

“I’m helping,” she replied through a clenched jaw. Buffy watched as she began to mutter, hands moving in complicated circles now.

“Wil, you don’t have to do that, just let me fight it.” Buffy took a step forward, intending to push down Willow’s hands but she said sharply, “Stop! I’ve got this, Buff, just stay back.”

Buffy swallowed an outraged reply and turned back to face the demon, who was still trapped on the other side of an invisible dividing line. 

Suddenly, there was a groan behind the monster and Buffy saw a hand push its way out from beneath flung pillows.  _ Tara _ .

In her haste to send Spike to check on Dawn, Buffy had forgotten that Tara had been in the room with him when the demon came crashing through the window. It looked as though Tara had been flung aside with the couch cushions when it had entered the house, and she was just now recovering from the shock.

Now, as Tara started to get up from the cushion pile, the trash demon turned slowly to face her, a malicious grin creeping over its yellow face. 

“Wil,” Buffy said quietly but with unmistakable urgency in her voice. “Drop. The magic.”

“It’s going to take me a second,” came Willow’s strained voice from behind her.

“I don’t think we have a second!” said Buffy, statement turning into a shout as garbage boy lunged at Tara.

Buffy heard three yells at once. From behind her came Willow’s scream, from in front, Tara’s terrified shout. But from the left came a familiar roar. Spike.

A streak of black and platinum rushed from the hallway and collided with the demon. Both Spike and the monster went down with a crash, falling onto the coffee table and very effectively crushing it to splinters. Buffy just hoped that Spike had locked Dawn in her room.

“Wil, drop it!” Buffy shouted as Tara crawled out into the hallway, away from the thrashing bodies of vampire and demon.

“Done!” yelled Willow as Buffy heard another crackling and dust from the fight started to swirl toward them. Buffy leapt onto the trash monster and tried to pull him off Spike, who had his arms up in front of his face to keep it from getting pummeled. Willow ran past them to Tara, coughing as she entered the stink cloud that was the area around the monster.

As Buffy pulled on the demon, a fresh wave of garbage smell crashed over her. She stopped breathing, her lungs stinging from the bad air that was now trapped inside them, as Spike coughed intensely from the other side of the demon.

Buffy was getting nowhere with removing the demon. He was too big and she couldn’t get enough untainted oxygen. She sprang away and gasped in the less toxic air, turning wildly to search for a weapon. There were always weapons in this house, where did they all go in a crisis?

Finally she spotted an axe lying next to the small desk in the living room. She grabbed it and swung hard at the monster, holding her breath once more as she did so.

It yowled as her axe connected with its back, letting go of Spike and rolling away from him. Buffy didn’t wait for the monster to take a fighting stance against her: she jumped forward and swung the axe around again. Once more she broke it’s stretched yellow skin as it emitted another roar and an even stronger offensive smell. She fought back a cough and reared back to strike again, but it quickly backed away toward the broken window. 

It was halfway into the yard when it spoke in a low, gravelly voice. “You win this time, Slayer, but I’ll be back.”

It grinned hideously and then it was darting over the lawn away into the darkness.

Buffy watched the spot where it had disappeared for a moment before dropping the axe and turning to give Spike a hand up. He waved her hand away, still coughing a little, and nodded toward Willow and Tara.

Buffy looked at the pair. Willow was rubbing Tara’s back and murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” as Tara patted her arm. She met Buffy’s eyes and said in a barely quaking voice, “So that’s what you were warning us about, huh?”

She nodded in response as Willow turned to look at Spike, who had stood up and was now brushing dust and splinters off his coat.

“Spike,” said Willow slowly, standing as well and bringing Tara up with her. 

“Yeah?” he replied cautiously.

“Thank you.” Willow looked surprised by her own words, which meant Buffy was not alone in being taken aback. 

For his part, Spike quickly covered his own surprise with a solemn expression. “‘Course, red.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Tara, taking Willow’s hand. “Thanks. I would’ve been a pile of smelly goo if you hadn’t jumped in.”

Spike actually smiled at Tara, who smiled back, much to Buffy’s mounting surprise over the entire situation. “Well, we can’t have that. Who’d look after red if you kicked it?”

There was a strange glint in Spike’s eyes as he said this. Based on the lack of reaction in Willow and Tara, Buffy supposed she was the only one to notice it. She suddenly remembered Spike’s words:  _ She’s the one who brought you back, which--although I’m beyond thrilled to have you back--was stupid. Could’ve gone seriously wrong if she hadn’t been as powerful as she is. _

She glanced at Willow. Her friend had been extremely quick in putting up a barrier against the trash demon. Add the freaky speed to her new abilities as a telepath and necromancer, and Buffy could sort of see Spike’s point. Willow was  _ very _ powerful, but she didn’t seem to know when it was best to use those powers… 

“So,” Buffy broke through her thoughts. The three of them looked at her, but she looked at Willow and said haltingly, “I know it’s a little...unusual, but yes. I am sleeping with Spike.”

Spike shifted his stance, an awkward grimace flitting across his face before he returned to his part stoic, part bored expression. Tara smiled and said, “I’m happy for you, Buffy. Really. Spike is...well he used to push things way too much, but he’s changed. He was really great when you di--when you were gone.”

A little of the tension Buffy hadn’t realized was in her shoulders relaxed. Willow still looked conflicted but she wagged her head a little and said, “I’m willing to give him a chance. But if you hurt her--” she said darkly, pointing a finger at Spike, “I will dust you. Or, you know, magic you to dust. Something. But still!” 

Awkward Willow was back, which meant the confusion of seeing them together was wearing off. Though Buffy didn’t intend to have very visible sex with Spike anyway. That had been a foolish fluke.

“So, any insight on this trash demon, then?” Buffy asked, pulling the conversation away from her new relationship-thing-whatever with Spike.

“Oh, right, uh,” Willow shook her head, collecting herself. She led the way into the dining room where she had her laptop and other magic-y books scattered across the table. She settled into her chair at the head of the table, Tara sitting down next to her. Spike remained standing at the entryway as Buffy sat in a chair opposite Willow. 

“So,” Willow began, opening up her laptop. “I can search some of the bigger occult sites for demons that are big, yellow, and smelly. We could probably use Giles’ help on this though. Oh, Giles..” She trailed off and looked at Buffy and Spike. “Heh, that’s gonna be a bit awkward, huh?”

“I’ll handle it,” Buffy said with more confidence than she felt. She hadn’t considered what she’d say to Giles about her new thing with Spike. Everything was happening too quickly, she hadn’t had much time to process.

She heard a quiet snort from behind her and she resisted the urge to turn and look at Spike. “Right, well, you get going on the research. I’m going to check on Dawn and then Spike and I will go ask some questions around town.”

“Okedoke,” Willow replied, fingers already tapping quickly at her keyboard. “We’ll see what we can find, maybe come up with a list of possible baddies.”

“Sounds good,” Buffy said, standing again. She headed up the stairs, Spike following silently behind her. At the top of the steps, she turned and faced him while he was still a few steps down, putting them at eye level. He paused and leaned against the bannister, regarding her with...amusement?

“What?” she asked a bit shortly. The stress of the last forty-five minutes was starting to hit her and her patience with smirks was wearing thin.

“That could’ve gone worse,” Spike chuckled quietly, crossing his own arms. She raised her eyebrows.

“Well,” he said, climbing up a step so that just one step separated them. “The little witch didn’t try to stake me, so that’s a step in the right direction, ain’t it?”

Buffy huffed out a breath, a hint of laughter easing a bit of her anxiety. “No, but she did threaten to.”

“Yeah, if I hurt you. Which I won’t,” he said. He climbed the final step so that he was standing just in front of her, head tilted down to meet her eyes. “Unless you ask me to, of course,” he added in a soft, sultry voice that immediately caused desire to pool inside her.

“Spike,” she said, half-warning and half-wanting. She could smell the sweat and wood dust on him from the brief fight. She inhaled sharply, sucking in his scent. Tongue between his teeth, Spike leaned down toward her face.

“What, Slayer?” Something about the way Spike said the word  _ Slayer _ , the way his tongue seemed to wrap around the title, savoring it on its way out of his lips, made her want to--

“Buffy?”

With a jolt, Buffy moved away from Spike and turned to Dawn’s room, where a part of Dawn’s finger was waggling in the gap between the door and the floor.

She exhaled heavily, and glanced at Spike, who still had a sexy glint in his eyes. 

_ Later _ , he mouthed before grinning widely, showing his canines.

She suppressed a shiver and went to unlock Dawn’s door.


	9. Recognizing the Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy is maybe finally starting to recognize her issues, and realizing that there are at least a few people who have her back.

“Get your fingers out of the door, Dawn,” Buffy said as she unlocked Dawn’s room. She heard scrambling sounds and then the door handle was wrenched out of her grasp as Dawn pulled open her door. 

There stood her sister, glaring at her with frustrated eyes and disheveled hair. 

“What was that all about!?” demanded Dawn shrilly as she pushed past Buffy into the hall. She caught sight of Spike standing at the top of the stairs, covered in dust, and repeated, “What’s  _ that _ all about?!”

“Dawn, calm down,” said Buffy, laying a hand on her sister’s shoulder. There was an attack but it’s over now.”

“What was it?” asked Dawn as she moved toward the stairs. At a nod from Buffy, Spike stood aside and let her go down, the pair of them following. The disaster that greeted the three of them in the living room brought Dawn to a halt, and Buffy didn’t need to see her sister’s face to know that her mouth had fallen open. 

“Some kind of trash demon,” Buffy shrugged as Dawn picked her way through the chaotic pillows and broken wood. “We’re gonna work on figuring out what kind.”

Dawn sniffed the air and then gagged. “Ugh, trash demon is right, it smells awful in here.”

As Buffy stood behind her sister, she sensed Spike move to lean against the doorsill behind her. She was reminded suddenly of how ready he’d been to run and protect Dawn. She glanced over her shoulder to see him staring at her. She gave him a grateful smile, which deepened when he winked at her in return. When his face went stoic and his eyes moved past her, she too turned around to see Dawn watching them with narrowed eyes.

“What?” blurted Buffy, cursing the guilt in her voice. She didn’t need to feel guilty, stop thinking like that…

After a pause, Dawn asked, “Was this the first time the demon attacked you, Buffy?”

Relieved, Buffy replied, “No, it attacked us earlier tonight too. First Spike alone, and then us together.”

Dawn snorted and crossed her arms, surveying their once again wrecked living room. “Maybe it was jealous.”

Buffy heard Spike shift behind her and hoped it looked casual. “What are you talking about?” she asked in her best ‘exasperated at Dawn’ voice, crossing her own arms.

“You two, duh,” she said, looking from Buffy to Spike with a know-it-all expression on her face. “I mean,” she said with a slight laugh, “there’s no way it’s a coincidence that it attacked Spike and then both of you. You must have another demon admirer, Buffy.”

Anger suddenly rushed through her as she listened to her sister. She felt her muscles tighten, and although her stance did not shift, she heard Spike take a step forward to stand just behind her. 

“Breathe,” came his quiet voice, so quiet that Dawn probably hadn’t heard. She forced herself to take a deep breath.

“Even if I did, Smelly doesn’t stand a chance,” Buffy said in an impressively calm voice.

Dawn snorted again. “Well sure, not with Spike hanging around all the time. But don’t worry, I’m just teasing you,” she said with a conspiratorial grin at Spike. “I’ve been rooting for Spike for months now.”

Buffy opened her mouth to retort but Spike interrupted her with a sigh. 

“Alright, little bit, so you’ve figured it out. What are you after, a gold star?” he drawled as he stepped up to stand beside Buffy, draping an arm across her shoulders. 

Even now, after they’d had sex and shared their feelings for one another, facing her sister with Spike’s arm on her was difficult. It was a statement, somehow more of a statement than outright telling Willow and Tara had been, and it took everything in her not to shake off Spike’s arm. Spike must have felt her tense though, because he slowly dropped his arm from her and stuck his hand in one of his coat pockets. It looked fairly casual, but a glance at Spike’s face told her he was hurt. Just a little. Just around the eyes.

Buffy took a deep breath and moved in front of Dawn, looking her in the eye. “Yes,” she said slowly, “Spike and I are...together. It just happened, it hasn’t been going on that long. Certainly not long enough to draw the demon here. Whatever his reason for coming to Sunnydale and wanting to kill me, I don’t think it has anything to do with Spike.”

Dawn moved her hands to take Buffy’s, looked her in the eye, and said, “I was kidding. I know the demon isn’t here to kill you because he’s jealous of Spike. That said,” and she grinned at Spike again as she turned Buffy around to face him, “I’m glad you two are together, it’s pretty cute. Also I totally called this ages ago!”

Buffy rolled her eyes, remembering that Dawn had indeed first tried to tell Buffy that Spike liked her. Buffy had laughed at this idea, but she’d also started paying more attention to whenever Spike was around, trying to gauge if Dawn was right. And she had been. How annoying.

“Dawnie?” 

Tara’s voice came from behind Spike, and Buffy suddenly remembered that both witches were still researching the trash demon.

“Any luck?” asked Buffy as Spike stepped aside to let Tara into the living room.

Tara shook her head, saying, “Not yet. I really think Giles could help with this. He knows way too much about demons sometimes.”

Buffy’s heart leapt in a sudden burst of anxiety. Right, Giles. Now it was just Giles who didn’t know about her and Spike. And Xander. And Anya. Oh god, Xander was going to be a nightmare.

Buffy tried not to let her nerves show as she said, “Right. I’ll--we’ll go get him.” She looked at Spike, who nodded, seeming entirely too calm about going to meet her Watcher as Buffy’s new boyfriend.

“And Dawn and I will make hot chocolate while the whiz does the research,” said Tara, throwing an arm around Dawn’s shoulder, who giggled.

“See you guys soon, then.”

Buffy and Spike left her home and began walking toward Giles’ apartment. They were about five minutes from her house when Buffy stopped and covered her face with her hands.

“Why was that so embarrassing?” she asked, voice muffled through her palms.

“I was sort of wondering that myself,” said Spike cooly.

Drawing her hands away, she saw Spike staring at her as he lit a cigarette. 

“I--”

“We talked about it before we went in to your place,” Spike spoke over her, cutting off what would have been her floundering attempt to explain her reaction. “I said there was no need to fill them in on all the nasty bits, but you felt guilty about that. Granted, spilling the secret to Red was hard to avoid once she saw us palling around. But,” Spike’s voice lowered and he moved forward until his chest was inches from Buffy’s face, his eyes focused down on hers. “I got the idea that you didn’t want to mention it just ‘cause you were afraid of what they’d say. You didn’t say anything about being ashamed of me.”

“I’m not--” her voice stuck in her throat. She  _ wasn’t _ ashamed of sleeping with Spike, or even her friendship with Spike. At least, she didn’t think so. “I don’t think I’m ashamed of you. It was just...fear.”

“What, fear that they’ll judge you? Say you’re crazy for kippin’ with a murderous vamp? I don’t recall that being a big deal when it was Captain Forehead, so it must be just  _ me _ that they’d mind. Eh?” There was a hint of coldness in Spike’s voice now, and it sent a chill into her.

“I hid Angel the second time he came back,” Buffy said defensively, not turning away from Spike’s cool gaze. “After he’d been Angelus, after he’d killed Ms. Calendar, I hid him and lied to my friends because I knew they wouldn’t understand. And I was right. Xander, Willow, and Giles were so mad at me when they found out, Giles especially, after what he’d been through. So yeah. I’m afraid of what they’ll say, I’m afraid they’ll abandon me, I’m afraid--”

Spike’s arms were around her, pressing her face to his chest so she couldn't speak. He held her tightly, his cheek pressed against her hair, and he was saying, “I’m sorry, Buffy,” in such a soft voice that she started to cry. The stress of just being in her house, knowing that this new secret was about to come out, had built inside her, but she hadn’t recognized it until Spike comforted her.

They stood there, wrapped in each other, as Buffy cried as she hadn’t since her mother died. She hadn’t cried when she died. Nor when she’d come back to life and realized she may never see heaven again. She’d been brave, but mostly she’d been holding herself back. If she cried about having come back from the dead, her secret would be out. Her friends would know she’d been lying to them. 

_ Stop _ , she told herself, face still pressed into Spike. She was going in circles. Constantly worrying about her friends’ opinion on her choices, fear of their judgement causing her to spiral into depression. If she couldn’t find a way to stop her fears from growing out of control, she’d be too much of a wreck to face the trash demon.

Buffy struggled to slow her breathing until she was more or less calm again, and then stepped back from Spike. 

“I’m--well, I’m not okay. Obviously. But you’re right,” and she smiled as Spike’s raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “I need to stop worrying so much about what they’ll say. I mean, Dawn’s got my back! And Tara! And, well, sort of Willow...”

Even to her ears, her voice sounded less than confident, but it was a start. She’d fake it till she made it. 

“I’ve got you, too, Slayer,” Spike said, stroking her cheek. “Can’t lie, it hurt a bit when you tensed up with my arm on you, but we’ll work it out. Not letting you get away from me a second time.”

Buffy could only offer a wry smile, unable to tell him again how much his support helped. She squared her shoulders, and said, “Time to go get Giles.”

Spike gave a theatrical bow, his arm sweeping forward in the direction of Giles’ apartment. “Lead the way, general.”

  
  



	10. What's Wrong with Buffy - Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy faces the final hurdle: telling Giles that she and Spike are sleeping together. Note: no actual songs in this chapter, despite the "reprise" in the title.

Buffy and Spike stood outside Giles’ door for several minutes. Buffy was finding it very difficult to raise her hand to knock. 

“Any time now, luv,” drawled Spike from her side, where he was leaning against the wall. 

“I know!” snapped Buffy. She paused and then said, “Sorry. I’m just--”

“Scared, got it. One way to fix that,” he said with a grin and he leaned past her and rapped on the door which Buffy had been staring down ineffectually.

“Spike!” she exclaimed, but Spike merely leaned back against the wall as the front door opened to reveal a mildly disheveled Giles.

“Oh, Buffy. Er, do you know what time it is?” Even with a heavy coil of nerves in her stomach, the sight of Giles pushing his glasses up his nose gave her a moment of peace.

“Sorry, Rupe, but we’ve got some news for you.” Spike’s easy, casual tone annoyed her: how could he be so calm when faced with the terror of telling her Watcher they were sleeping together?

“Oh, Spike.” Buffy thought that this ‘oh’ greeting sounded much less patient than his first, which did not bode well. “Er, yes, well, come in, I suppose.”

Spike followed Buffy through the door, and she noticed (which meant Spike probably noticed as well) that Giles tensed ever so slightly when Spike crossed the threshold. Why were so many signs jumping into her face now? Was the universe trying to tell her not to tell Giles?

“I was, er--well I wasn’t asleep, fortunately, but I was preparing to, but shall I make tea?”

“Probably a good call, mate, nice calming cuppa.” Spike winked covertly at Buffy, who dug a sharp elbow into his ribs. Maybe he thought he was helping.

He wasn’t helping.

“That bad, eh?” asked Giles as he headed to his little kitchen. “Shall I wait to ask until after I have tea, or shall we er, rip the bandaid, as it were?”

“You are Ripper, after all--” was Spike’s answer but Buffy quickly stood up.

“Oh for--Giles: Spike and I are sleeping together!”

All of Giles’ usual puttering sounds ceased and silence took over the small apartment. After a moment, Giles walked slowly out of his kitchen holding a teapot. He stared at Buffy as though Spike weren’t even there.

“What did you say?”

He didn’t sound...angry? Just very, very confused. And polite.

“Um, Spike and I are--well we just started--I mean,” Buffy took a deep breath. She felt Spike’s hand gently touch the back of her leg, as though he were trying to comfort her. It helped. “Spike and I are, well, together.” It sounded a bit lame as she said it, but she couldn’t think of another way to phrase it, now that she’d already blurted it out.

Giles, teapot in hand, said quietly, “I see,” and returned to the kitchen.

Buffy stood there in Giles’ living room, Spike still gently stroking the back of her knee. This was in no way how she’d expected this to go. She’d been expecting a lecture about responsibility, a reminder of what had happened with Angel. She’d been expecting Giles to be disappointed in her. 

“You wanna go talk to him?” Spike asked quietly. “Might be easier without me--”

But Giles was back, this time carrying a tea tray ladened with cups, saucers, and “biscuits,” as he and Spike called them. 

“Water’ll be ready in a moment,” he said lightly, laying the tea things on his coffee table. Buffy was still standing and she tried to catch his eye as he straightened up, but he immediately turned around and went back to the kitchen.

Buffy’s anxiety wore off in the face of Giles’ completely unexpected reaction, instead replaced with confusion.

Buffy sank down beside Spike, his weight on the couch causing her to fall into him slightly. Perhaps remembering how Buffy had shied away from him during their confrontation at her house, he didn’t put an arm around her this time.

“What is happening?” asked Buffy, confusion in her voice.

“He’s British,” answered Spike simply, as though there was no other explanation. “When faced with something as outlandish as this, we Brits go to our default setting: tea.”

Buffy’s face twisted into a smirk, causing Spike to narrow his eyes. “What?” he asked, sounding mildly offended.

“I cannot see you drinking tea.”

“Oi, look here,” he said defensively, shifting on the couch to face her better. “I’ll have you know that just because I’m a vamp doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good cuppa every now and again.”

“Oh yeah?” replied Buffy, happily throwing herself into this banter as a welcome distraction. “When’s the last time you drank tea,  _ William _ ?”

“What, are you trying to insult me by calling me by my actual name?” Spike scoffed and settled back into the cushions. “If that’s an insult, then maybe we should reexamine  _ Buffy _ .”

“What’s wrong with ‘Buffy’?” she asked indignantly.

“I’m having a sudden sense of deja vu,” came Giles’ voice. Buffy turned quickly and saw Giles leaning against the wall, teapot steaming in his hands. There was a small smile on his face, which Buffy tentatively matched.

Buffy glanced at Spike as Giles finally sat down with them, and thought she saw a look of smugness in his expression, which made Buffy suspect that he had started their bickering on purpose. To show Giles that they were more or less the same in spite of new developments.

“So the two of you are--are together then?” asked Giles as he poured himself a cup of tea and then gestured for Spike and Buffy to join him. Buffy abstained (Giles had never managed to turn her on to tea very much) but Spike, with a snarky glance at Buffy, poured himself a cup as well.

“Yes, we are,” replied Buffy cautiously.

Giles sipped at his tea and said, “Well I have to say, I’m not really surprised.” At Buffy’s own obvious surprise, he continued, “I’ve certainly noticed that you seem to have been--well, relying on Spike, perhaps more than the others, and definitely more than before you er, passed. So no, I-I’m not surprised, but I must admit it’s--well it is odd. The two of you together.”

“But you’re not...mad? Or anything?” asked Buffy as Spike sipped his tea at her side.

It was Giles’ turn to look surprised. “Of course not, Buffy. If-if you expected me to--to reprimand you for choosing a vampire as your….companion, you were rather mistaken. And,” said Giles, a wry expression coming across his face, “at least this vampire has never tortured me.”

Buffy fought the urge to duck her head as guilt flushed through her, but Spike saved her from replying by saying, “Well this is all very surreal. Feel like you should be holding a shotgun, Rupe.”

There was a very brief flash of darkness in Giles’ eyes as he said, “Well, I imagine it goes without saying that if you ever hurt Buffy I will do everything in my power to make your death as prolonged and painful as possible.” Giles took a sip of tea as Buffy smiled. Always her Watcher. “Now,” he continued, setting down his tea, “was this the only news you had for me tonight or was there something else?”

Buffy leapt at this segue. “There’s a trash demon who wants to kill me. He’s tried twice already tonight.”

“A trash demon, you say?” said Giles contemplatively, rising to his feet and putting both hands in his pockets. “Can you describe it?”

“Big--” began Spike.

“Red eyes--” interjected Buffy.

“Smells like a rubbish heap in July--”

“Did you get a name?” Giles interrupted. 

Spike grinned at Buffy, who said, “I sort of….didn’t let it tell me?” With a sigh, Giles removed his glasses and began wiping them with his shirt. “I mean, we’ve got a pretty good description, so that...helps?”

Giles said nothing as he replaced his glasses and gazed at her. “Do you have a plan?” he asked softly.

“Make with the research, find some weaknesses, follow my nose, and then slay. Same as always.” Despite failing to slay the demon on two separate occasions, Buffy was proud of the confidence in her voice. “Willow, Tara and Dawn are researching at my house if you want to join. Or we can wait till the morning?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” cautioned Giles. “You say you fought the demon twice this evening?” Buffy nodded and Giles said, “Yes, the demon sounds fairly determined so I think the sooner the better. I’ll just gather myself and then join Willow and the others. Perhaps you and Spike could patrol?”

“Sure,” chirped Buffy, getting to her feet and trying to surreptitiously pull Spike up with her. “We’ll make with the walky and meet back at the house after an hour.”

“All right,” said Giles. He paused, glancing at Spike. “Erm, Spike would you wait outside? I’d like a word with Buffy.”

Spike drained his teacup and set it back down on the tray. “Got it, Rupe,” he said, and then strolled out the door, lighting a cigarette as he went.

Giles was watching Buffy intently, as though looking for something. 

“What?” she asked, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Are you all right, Buffy?” he asked quietly. 

That question again. They’d all been asking repeatedly over the last few weeks, but this was the first time it hadn’t grated on her. 

“I’m...doing better,” Buffy said softly, not quite meeting his eyes. “It’s probably not surprising, I mean you’re not an idiot and you’ve known me forever, but….I wasn’t all right. But he helps, Giles.” With these words, she did finally look into his face. “He helps me feel….something, and that helps.”

Giles nodded and once more wiped his glasses on his shirt. “You know I’m here for you, Buffy.” Now Giles wasn’t meeting her gaze. “I wasn’t, when you first returned, but I am here. And if being with Spike will help you….adjust, then by all means I support you.” He placed his glasses once more on his nose and looked at her. “If you’re happy, then I support you.”

Buffy felt a lump in her throat. Impulsively, she moved forward and hugged Giles. He smelled of tea and books, just as he’d always smelled. “Thank you, Giles,” she said into his shirt. 

Unbidden, she suddenly remembered when she and Spike had been forced to love each other by Willow’s magic. Buffy recalled that she had asked Giles to walk her down the aisle, as the father she’d never had until he became her Watcher.

Fighting sniffles, Buffy stepped back from Giles, who cleared his throat and nodded.

“Right, well, I’ll see you in an hour. Be safe,” said Giles, patting her shoulder. Buffy smiled at his awkwardness, and gave a nod of her own before joining Spike outside.

He stood in a small cloud of smoke, which he waved away as Buffy approached him in the courtyard. “Everything all right, pet?” he asked, snuffing his cigarette on the cobblestones.

“Yeah,” she replied, “It is.” Unable to hold back her grin, Buffy pulled Spike’s mouth down to hers. She could taste the tobacco on his lips and tongue, but ignored it. She simply relished the feeling of Spike’s body pressed against hers, his hands in her hair, and knowing that none of her friends hated her for wanting to be with this platinum vampire.


End file.
